Blood Line
by Wraith094
Summary: They've got a train to catch. And a thousand zombies in the way.
1. The Streets

Starring

Jack _as himself_ Frank _as himself_ Ryan _as himself _Alex _as himself_

TWO WEEKS AFTER FIRST INFECTION

_The Streets_

A mottled grey hand stretched forward, reaching for the tall, dark blue column rising above. It squealed and looked up, pale white eyes glowing briefly as light fell upon them. A black boot crushed its neck back down into the rough asphalt. It stared into a dark hole the size of its head until there was a brilliant flash of light and brief, deafening blast, and then it splayed back against the street, a dark red splotch of blood splashed across the road. "That's the end of that," said Jack, stepping off the dead zombie and holstering his .45 pistol.

"So much for this idea," said Ryan, dropping his cigarette onto the ground and crushing it beneath his brown boots. He kicked the idle police cruiser and snarled.

"So much for safety, you mean," said Frank, sighing and scratching at his grey mustache. He looked down the street at the makeshift barricades made by police cars. It hadn't helped them much, as the unformed corpse at their feet attested. "Doesn't look like anyone got outta this."

"Well, I heard the military's still running evac trains out of the station," said Alex, the final member of the group. "Maybe, we should head there," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Dude, if the cops are gone, what makes you think that station's still running?" asked Ryan.

"You got any better ideas?" asked Alex, spreading his arms.

Ryan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, kicking at the ground. "No," he grunted.

"That settles it, then," said Jack, bashing in the window of the cruiser with the dead officer's nightstick. He discarded it as he reached inside and pulled out a shotgun, cocking it and checking its ammo. "We've got a train to catch."

"Better grab some bigger guns. Looks like it'll be a slog," said Frank, nodding at the infected shambling between the cars. He pulled a shotgun of his own from the stiff hands of an ex-cop. Alex and Ryan nodded, checking the open trunk of the cruiser and grabbing a pair of submachine guns. Jack jumped up on top of the car, took aim, and took the head off one zombie with a single shotgun blast. He chuckled and jumped onto the back of the next car. "This'll be fun," he said, grinning and detonating the head of another infected. "Follow me!" he shouted, jumping to another car.

"He makes a lot of goddamn noise," said Alex, rubbing his forehead. A pair of infected grunted in alarm and ran at them, squealing. Alex and Ryan raised their weapons and quickly cut them down with short bursts of fire.

"He makes a goddamn mess, too," said Ryan. "But I'm not encouraging him to change that habit." Jack was already far ahead of them, picking off a large pack of infected one by one as they attempted to climb onto his perch. When they all lay in ring around him, he smirked and rapidly flicked his thumb, as if pressing a button in his fist. "Slowpokes!" he shouted. "I've still got triple your body counts!"

"You're not getting my first aid when you use yours first!" Ryan shouted back. They picked off the stragglers that rushed down the steps from the police station.

"Damn thing kicks like an ass," said Alex. He straightened his red hoodie and looked up at the station. "They've gotta have some better guns in there. A lot of them."

"Hey, buddy," said Ryan, holding out his hand and wearing an exaggerated smile on his face. "See these guys? The guys we're shooting? Yeah, they're coming from inside there. The only things in there are zombies. A lot of them."

"Yeah, well, I don't like your jacket," said Alex. Ryan scowled.

"Eh, he's right, kid," Frank sighed. "Let's leave that hive well alone."

Alex groaned. "It's not like we won't be able to get out. I'm sure Ryan knows the place by the back of his hand."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Go back to your computer games, runt. Then you can take more than one hit before you go down."

Ahead, Jack was leaning against a wall, waving at them. "Oi! Over here, slowpokes! Do I have to do all the work around here?" he yelled, smirking. An infected grunted in surprise and dashed towards him. Alex began to shout a warning when Jack suddenly sprang into action, drawing a machete out of the holster behind his left shoulder and spinning around, right arm slashing in a wide arc. The weapon cleanly passed through the zombie's neck with almost no resistance. As Jack's arm concluded its arc, the severed head tumbled to the ground. Jack stepped slightly to his left to avoid the body, which fell past him as its momentum continued to carry it forward. Jack turned, smirking, black blood staining his weapon and some drops sprayed across his face. "That's how it's done, ladies," he said, placing his boot on top of the beheaded corpse and leaning forward against the knee.

"You keep that thing damn sharp, Jack," said Frank, nodding his head slightly.

"Thank you," Jack replied, nodding back. "Aside from an uncontrolled blaze or a bomb that can level a city block, this girl's my weapon of choice. Gotta take care of your loved ones." Jack stepped off of the body and holstered his machete. "Roads blocked, boys and girls," he said, motioning at the tall, durable black fences that served as a barricade. He pointed his shotgun to his left. "That alley's clear, though. Of solid obstructions, at least."

Alex sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "Looks like we head that way, then."

Jack pointed at him, thumb up and other three fingers bent back, and nodded his head. "I'll take point." He raised his shotgun and waved the flashlight beam around the dark alleyway. He crept down and turned the corner, blasting an idle infected leaning against the wall. "Clear here."

Frank held up a hand, eyes scanning the rooftops. "Hang on, I thought I heard something." They stood there, motionless and silent, for several moments before a phlegmatic gurgle, almost as if someone was choking or drowning, echoed through the narrow passage. "That was definitely something," said Alex. "What is it…that fat one. The fat guy who explodes."

"Boomer," said Jack, crouching, listening, and scanning the alley ahead. There was another gurgle, different from the first. His eyes eventually rolled upward.

"Nice name," said Ryan, grunting in contempt. "I'd rather call 'em 'Fatso' myse-"

Jack whipped his shotgun straight up into the air and fired. The Boomer exploded in midair, showering them with bits of gore and drops of a greenish liquid, sticky like phlegm.

"Oh, nice fucking shot, Jack!" Ryan groaned, spreading his arms and looking over the bile covering him. "Ruined my favorite jacket…"

"Fitting name, I think," said Frank.

Jack pumped his shotgun. "Company incoming!" he shouted. A mob of sprinting zombies rushed around the corner. The group opened up with their weapons, cutting most of them down. Several infected suddenly began appearing between them.

"They're dropping in from the rooftops!" Alex shouted, shifting his aim accordingly. He shoved the nearest infected, sending it stumbling backwards into a wall, which allowed him to ventilate it with his submachine gun.

"Jack, your back!" Frank yelled, aiming at the pack surrounding Jack carefully.

"Least of my problems, old man!" Jack grunted, shoving back three infected attempting to claw at his face. A zombie grabbed his arm from behind and made a shallow bite as Jack pulled it away. Another slashed at his back. Growling in anger and grunting in pain, Jack pushed backwards and smashed them against the wall, stunning them momentarily and allowing him to spin around and kill both with one shell. He turned again and struck the others rushing towards him with the butt of his weapon, then blasted them.

A shriek pierced the din. Ryan cursed as he reloaded his weapon, spotting a dark, blurry shape leaping towards him from the rooftop above. "Hunter!" he yelled, just before it slammed him to the ground, sending his weapon tumbling away. It ripped at his shirt, clawing a gash in his chest. "GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF ME!"

Frank threw himself at the Hunter, causing it to roll off Ryan. It scrambled back onto all fours with astonishing agility and shrieked again. Frank fired his shotgun just as it lunged for him, and sidestepped the dead weight as its momentum crashed it into the wall. "You okay?" he asked, grabbing Ryan's outreached hand and hauling him to his feet.

"Quick on your feet for an old man," Ryan replied, scooping up his submachine gun.

"I'm not _that_ old yet," Frank chuckled. They turned to the others. "We clear?"

Alex's gun cracked and an infected fell to the ground like a rag doll. He reloaded and nodded. Jack finished demolishing the chest of the last zombie with his machete and leaned against the wall, panting heavily. "Yeah," he grunted. "I think we're clear."

"Lemme take a look at that," said Frank, grabbing Jack's arm. "They took quite a chunk out of you."

"I've had worse," Jack replied, motioning at his right leg with the machete. He stuck it back in the holster and grabbed his shotgun. "I'll pop some codeine and it won't be a problem."

Frank pulled out his first aid kit nonetheless, withdrawing some bandages. "Patch yourself up, boy." Sighing, Jack snatched the roll from Frank's hands and went about wrapping them around the bite. Alex wandered out ahead and peered around the corner.

"Street outlet here. We're past the barricade on this side," he shouted back. Frank appeared at his side, strapping the health pack onto his back.

"See where it leads?"

Alex peered around the corner again. "Looks like that Boomer cleared out a lot of the infected here. I only see a few wandering about in the street. There's a semi jackknifed in the middle of the road." Alex turned around to find the others arrayed behind him. Ryan cursed under his breath. "We'll find a detour."

The group spread out into the street and cut down the wandering infected with carefully-aimed shots, then rushed down the street. Alex, being the skinniest of the four, attempt to squeeze through the gap between the semi and its trailer, but to no avail. "Too small for the rest of you, and I think there's another truck crashed into the cab here, so it's blocked anyways," he said, jumping down. He spotted a metal door beneath illuminated beneath a light in the side of the brick building across the street. "Hey, Jack, mind making us a path into that store?" he asked, motioning at the door with his weapon.

"No problem," Jack replied, nodding. He walked over, lifted a leg, and slammed his boot into the face of the door. The jam broke and the door swung inside, hinges strained and lock broken. He swept the back room of the convenience store with his flashlight. There was a corpse propped against the wall, surrounded by smears and pools of dried blood. Its stomach was ripped open and loose strands of intestine protruded from the gap. Jack blinked and moved inside. "Clear in here."

Jack carefully swung open the door to find himself behind the counter of a dark convenience store. An infected immediately swung its head in the direction of the noise, white eyes glinting briefly from the light outside. A shotgun blast blew apart its upper torso. There were squeals and murmurs as another pair of formerly-idle infected charged around the shelves and at the counter, but they were little trouble. As the others stepped inside, Jack investigated the looted store for supplies. Checking the eyes, he face lit up and he smiled broadly. "Guys, check this out!" he said enthusiastically. He hefted a bottle filled with liquid and a rag stuck into the neck. "Molotovs!" He strapped the first one to his belt and handed a second one to Ryan.

"Haven't seen any of these in a while," Ryan said, putting the bottle into a pocket inside his brown jacket.

"Why don't I get one?" asked Alex, scowling at Jack.

"Find me some metal piping and I can make you a pipe bomb," Jack replied. Alex grinned.

"That's a mission."

"Heads up, fellows," said Frank, staring out the front windows. He pointed across the street. "Safehouse ahead!" A spray-painted house with a cross inside, along with red, steel door marked a dilapidated garage as a temporary safe haven from the apocalypse. A handful of infected shambled around in the street.

Jack slung his shotgun across his back and drew his machete, turning to the others with a smile on his face. "Bet you the next grenade I can take down more zombies with this than the three of you can with your fancy guns," he bragged.

The other three chuckled and hefted their weapons. Jack threw the front door of the store open and charged out, hacking and slashing at the infected. Ryan, Frank, and Alex mowed down the rest as they charged towards him. Alex watched Jack with a warped admiration. It was bloody, brutal work to engage the infected up close and personal, but Jack made it look like a game. Like art. Alex remembered a conversation they had had with him about it days ago: "I'm a machete artist. Their faces are my canvas," he had said. Alex chuckled at the memory. _I wonder what he was like at war, _he thought. Alex reloaded his weapon and followed Ryan and Frank into the safehouse. "Let's go, Jack!" he called, beckoning for the large man to follow.

Jack held up a finger and turned to face a charging infected. He chopped off its arm as it lunged for him, sidestepped, and pushed it into the wall. As it stumbled and turned, he stepped forward and hacked off its other arm, then a leg with a smooth downward sweep of his blade. It fell to the ground and snarled up at him just as his boot descended and smashed in its skull. "All done!" he said, smiling. He bounded through the door and Alex threw it shut. A dozen infected slammed into it, pounding at it with their fists in futility.

"I think we won that bet, Jack," said Alex.

Jack pointed at them with both index fingers, thumbs up and smiling. "Good job. Now go argue about who gets that grenade."

Ryan narrowed his eyes and scowled. "Damn you."

* * *

><p>Hi. This is an all-OC story. It's in five parts, two are up. I tried to make it feel like a real campaign, but with more banterdialogue because describing settings is not my best skill and fights in Left 4 Dead get repetitive in a narrative (basically, zombies attack, kill zombies, rinse and repeat, you can only really vary the settings and outcomes of fights, I've found). So yeah, I hope you like it, whoever's reading this.


	2. The Stores

WE ARE THE REAL MONSTERS - [citation needed]

Beep Beep I'm a Jeep! - This guy had a jeep He left us to die RIP Robbie,Chelsea

Give me a ride?

ATTENTION  
>Emergency Evacuation Center at Bayside Hotel - OVERRUN - Train station still running!<br>Instructions Below

BULLSHIT

I don't want to set the world on fire  
>But I'm having the time of my life<p>

Psycho!

* * *

><p><em><span>The Stores<span>_

Alex grabbed some ammo from the pile on the nearby table and checked his weapon. "Everyone good to go?" he asked, looking at each of his companions and giving a thumbs-up.

Jack popped a pill into his mouth and stuck his bottle of codeine into a pocket in his camouflage cargo pants. He nodded and returned the gesture. Ryan looked up from the can of peaches he was eating and held up a finger. "Gimme a sec," said Frank, taking a load off on a crate and breathing heavily. Alex leaned against the leaned, one foot up, arm and weapon hanging at his side.

"Well, I guess we have a bit of time to chat. Ryan, I don't think you've told us what you did for a living before all this," Alex said. Ryan looked up from his snack and held up a different finger. "Ah, professional asshole. Quite the reputable occupation." Ryan held up the same finger again. Alex smiled and nodded. "Frank, what about you?"

"Eh, retired now. But I did work for Northrop-Grumman for about ten years," Frank replied.

"What kind of work did you do there?"

"Boring shit," Frank grunted, scratching his mustache. "At least, nothing that's useful these days."

"If you're retired, how'd you end up in office clothes minus the tie?"

"Job interview. I didn't much like retirement," Frank said, smiling. "Ditched the tie when it almost got me killed." Alex chuckled.

Ryan snorted suddenly and tossed away the now-empty can. "Okay, I'm done. Can we stop the 'heart-to-heart' shit, now?"

"Did your mother hug you enough when you were a child?" Alex snapped.

"My momma was a saint. She's a main reason I got through college with flying colors while little dork slackers like you sat around and played your little computer games," Ryan snapped back, emphasizing his oral points with literal points of the finger.

"Ha ha, a-ha ha…ha," Alex said, slowly and deliberately, smiling as he delivered an obscene gesture with his finger. "Let's pack up and go, please."

Jack nodded and turned to the red steel door, lifting the metal bar out of its slot and dropping it onto the floor. He picked up his shotgun and pushed the open the door, leading the way into the dark alley. The eyes of infected glowed briefly as the group swept the area with their flashlights. As they blasted heads from existence, a horrible, hacking cough filled the air.

"Tongue guy," said Ryan, gaze shifting to the rooftops looming above.

"I call 'em 'Smokers,'" said Jack.

"Creative. You come up with that yourself?"

"They burst into smoke when they die, and they cough like you," Jack snapped back.

"I like it better than 'Tongue Guy,'" Alex chuckled.

Jack, on point, suddenly stopped and crouched, holding up a hand. There was a clamor nearby, approaching fast. "Incoming," said Jack, pumping his shotgun. "Get ready." The horde spilled around the corner and almost immediately enveloped them. Jack surged forward, smashing two zombies against the opposite wall, and was lost from view.

"Stay close!" Alex yelled, backing up against a wall. Frank and Ryan drew in close, covering his flanks as he covered their backs. "Jack, where the hell are you?" Alex shouted. A shriek pierced the din, followed shortly by the terrifying attack screech of a Hunter. There was a crunch of impact somewhere in the flood of infected and then a brief squeal.

Ryan suddenly felt something wrap around his waist, like an arm, only warm and wet. The grip tightened and extended to his chest and was suddenly jerked backwards, dropping his submachine gun. "Fuck! What the fuck!" he swore, as he was dragged into the wall. The grip tightened again, and Ryan could no longer breathe, let alone speak. He gasped and choked for breath, the grip dragging him partway up the wall, dangling above the ground. He heard a shout of alarm to his left, and gunfire began pocking the wall above him. As his vision began to blacken, there was a yell, and a dark shape rapidly closed the distance towards him. Jack bounded off the back of a bent zombie and the shoulder of another, machete in hand, and cut the Smoker's tongue with one swipe. Both men crashed to the ground.

Ryan sputtered and gasped for breath as Jack got to his feet. The others finished off the remaining infected. "C'mon, c'mon, get up," said Jack, grabbing Ryan around the chest and lifting him to feet.

"Wha-what the hell was that?" Ryan coughed, supporting himself against the wall.

"Damn Smoker," said Frank. "It was in a window, we didn't have a good angle. It got away."

"I heard a Hunter," said Alex, scanning the windows and rooftops.

Jack grinned and pulled out his shotgun. The stock was bent and cracked in several places. "Stopped dead. Damn near broke my damn gun, so lopped off its head."

"Okay, I think we're good to go," Ryan grunted, pulling his short down over some bandages wrapped around his chest. He tossed away an empty red bag and threw his jacket over his shoulders. "Let's go."

Jack, standing at the turn of the corner, beckoned forward with a jerk of his head. "Back door in somewhere. Looks like a way out of this alley," he said, strolling forward. He jiggled the knob, but only in futility. "Fuck it," he groaned, raising his leg and smashing the door in with his boot. It swung open to bring them face-to-face with an infected dressed in a Burgertank uniform, complete with the stupid white cap. Jack blew it off with a shotgun blast, spraying the walls with black blood. "Would you like fries with that?" he muttered, as the legs buckled and fell limply to the floor.

Alex groaned loudly, as if in pain. "That was _awful_, dude," he said, chuckling under his breath. "I mean, come on! That was the best you could do?"

"I'll take him to go, please," said Frank. Ryan slapped his knee and laughed, loud and stuttered. Alex shook his head.

"Zeds," said Jack, aiming his shotgun through the window slit in the kitchen. One grunted in alarm and squealed, reaching at him through the window – then its head exploded. The other monsters shambling between the tables turned their heads, eyes glowing from the still-working lights above. The four survivors lined up at the window and opened fire, shattering the front windows and quickly dropping a dozen infected to the floor. Several continued to twitch or squirm, not quite dead – Jack and Frank left the kitchen and finished the job with forty-five and nine-millimeter rounds to the head.

Ryan grinned, spotting a basket of fries under a set of dead heat lamps. "Oh shit, guys. Check this out," he said, grabbing a handful.

"Dude, they're gonna be cold," said Alex. "Plus, it's been two weeks since this place was active. They're probably spoiled."

Ryan glanced at the fries in his hand, then back at Alex. "No, they're not."

"Dude, most of them are green. I can see it from here."

"Whatever," Ryan garbled, while stuffing the fries into his mouth. After a few moments, he stopped chewing, made a face, then spat a pile of green-white slop onto the floor.

Alex rolled his eyes. "Told you," he said, carefully stepping around the half-eaten food. Ryan responded with another obscene gesture.

Jack peered out into the night, leaning against the window frame of the shattered storefront. "Anything interesting?" asked Frank, reloading his Beretta.

Jack smiled, broadly. "Strip mall. Hardware store. _Gun_ store," he turned to Frank, smile widening to a grin. "A survivor's wet dream."

"Well, that's lucky, I guess," said Frank.

"What's lucky?" asked Alex, stepping into the conversation.

"Gun store," Frank answered. "I hope the damn thing ain't ransacked already."

"Nah, dude. The gun store's always perfectly preserved for the heroes. It'll still be packed," said Alex.

"Lights are still on," said Jack. "I need to check the hardware store, too. There's always something useful in there."

The group stepped through the broken window into the expansive parking lot. Two weeks ago, it would have been crowded with cars – now it was only crowded with idle infected. They quickly blew a path through the lot, finding a couple of boards nailed over the door of the gun store. Sheets of plywood covered the now-shattered storefront windows – one was almost torn in half.

"Looters will be shot," Alex recited, reading the message scrawled on the intact plywood.

"I don't think it helped much," said Frank, twitching his nose and making a face.

"What is that smell?" asked Ryan, waving his hand in front of his face.

"Decomp," said Jack, looking in over the damaged plywood. "Blood all over the floor."

"We gotta get in, though," said Alex. He pulled at the boards across the door, but without success.

"Hey, buddy, I get that you're trying," Jack started, raising his leg and kicking at the weakened sheet of plywood. Its nails flew out from the frame and the wood crashed to the floor. Jack smirked. "But I'm the one wearing the boots in this family." He jumped down into the store. "Watch your step. I don't think we'll have time to go shoe shopping, too."

The others followed Jack inside, carefully avoiding the blood smeared across the floor. Alex joined Jack at the main counter, looking over the display cases on the wall. "Not a whole lot of heavy stuff."

"This is a civilian gun store. They can't carry assault rifles or military-grade shotguns," Jack replied, examining a new pump-action shotgun. :See anything you like?"

Alex paused in thought for a moment, eyes eventually resting on a scoped rifle. "That semi-auto?" Jack drew his .45, grabbed it by the barrel, and smashed the glass with the butt. "Shit, dude. That's some mess."

"He won't mind," Jack muttered, making an offhand gesture at the floor. Alex leaned over the countered and shivered, shutting his eyes. A mutilated corpse – presumably the store's former owner – lay in a pool of dried blood, unrecognizable.

"Yeah, it's a semi. Three-oh-eight," said Jack, examining the rifle. "You sure you can shoot this?"

Alex took a deep breath, then exhaled, reopening his eyes. "Yeah, dude. I had no social life back in high school and college. Spent my spare time on the town at the range." Jack shrugged, then handed him the rifle. "Yeeeess…" Alex hissed. "I hate automatics. Too much kick for me."

On the other side of the store, Ryan and Frank browsed the pistol selection. Frank examined a Glock nine-millimeter, loading a full clip. "This is good," he said, strapping a new holster to his left thigh.

"You can use dualies?" asked Ryan.

"First time for everything," Frank replied, grabbing more ammunition. Ryan shrugged, then grabbed a large-caliber magnum.

"Sure you can handle the kick, kid?" Frank laughed.

"This was my weapon of choice back when things were normal. Sure as hell made assholes back off," Ryan responded, putting the magnum in his holster and tossing the nine-millimeter away. "'Go big or go home,' I always say."

"Well, it's one shot, one kill, that's for su-"

"Shhhhh!" Ryan and Frank turned – Jack held up one hand while drawing his machete with the other. They stood in total silence for several seconds – then a low, siniter growl reached their ears. "Hunter," Jack hissed. Ryan and Frank drew their pistols and slowly advanced down the aisle – the growl came from the back of the store. Crouching, Ryan carefully turned the knob and pushed open the door to the back office, revealing only darkness. He flicked on his light and

A high-pitched, horrible shriek made him shudder. He twisted left, magnum raised, and

Jack let loose a cry of triumph and sliced through the pouncing hunter with a single downward swipe. "Ha!" he cried again. There was another shriek, and Jack's eyes went wide. He managed to let loose a swear before the second Hunter pounced him from the dark storage room. Ryan leveled his magnum. When the Hunter raised its head, in preparation to claw at its victim, Ryan fired – the upper half of its head detonated, splashing the wall behind with blood and brain matter. The body slumped to the floor, and Jack got to his feet. "Thanks for the save, buddy," he said, pointing at Ryan with both hands, thumbs up.

"Right back at you," Ryan replied, nodding.

"Okay, I think we're lingering here too long," said Alex. "You watch – we stay here much longer and horde'll come along and bash down the barricades."

"He's right," said Jack, emptying a box of shotgun shells. "We can take the street north to the station. Ryan, Frank, check it. Alex, on me. I want to check the hardware store."

Ryan and Frank strolled out of the parking lot onto the nearby street, which ran by just next to the gun store. A pair of still-working street lights revealed the silhouettes of many stumbling infected – as well as a wrecked has tanker, blocking the road north. Ryan swore. "Why the hell can't anything go smooth? Even back when things were normal, things never went smooth!" he shouted at the sky, kicking at the ground.

"Eh, let's just clear out the zombies while we wait for Jack and Alex. They might have a solution," said Frank.

"Hmph," Ryan grunted, checking his submachine gun. "Whatever, I've got some frustration to take out anyways."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes and thirty dead zombies later, Jack and Alex returned, the latter swinging a wooden baseball bat and the former hefting what looked like a pair of pipe. "Look what we found," said Alex, smirking.<p>

"Look what we found," said Ryan, deadpan and frowning. He gestured down the street at the wrecked tanker.

"Well, shit," said Jack. "Take these. We'll be right back." He tossed Ryan and Frank the pipes. They had fuses and red lights attached to them.

"Are these…pipe bombs?" asked Ryan. "You made these in twenty minutes?"

"It's not that hard," Jack replied. "Just empty the gunpowder out of some shotgun shells, shovel it into-"

"Okay, okay. But what's this red light?"

"Fire alarm. Beeps pretty loud and high-pitched," said Alex. "The zombies are attracted to it, and then it explodes."

Ryan's eyes widened and he nodded his head. "Nice."

"Stick around, we'll be right back," said Jack, running back toward the parking lot and waving for Alex to follow.

Another ten minutes later, they returned, each lugging a pair of propane tanks. "Okay, we're in business," said Jack, setting his tanks down on the ground and pulling out a long length of cord. "Now, all we need to do is tie these all together, along with-" Alex loudly smashed his tanks against the ground and leaned against them, panting. He almost tipped them, and himself, over onto the ground. "Oh, come on," said Jack, rolling his eyes.

"I don't work out, man," Alex gasped.

Jack groaned. "As I was saying, we rope these four together, along with this flare," he pulled out a red, unused flare, for emphasis.

"Wait, that was a _hardware_ store?" asked Ryan.

"More like an outdoors-we-also-have-stuff-for-shop store. Now shut up. I'm on a roll, here," Jack snapped. "We put 'em all together, get to a safe distance, then shoot the tanks. With the residual gas in that tanker, it should explode quite nicely," he finished, grinning fiendishly.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, son. What do you mean 'the gas tanker will explode?'" asked Frank, raising a finger. "That'd be a pretty damn big boom."

"Yeah," Jack chuckled, eyes staring up at the sky, mouth open in a smile.

"That means infected, _lots_ of infected, are going to come _here_."

Jack shook his head and thought for a moment. "Well, damn. But you got a better plan?" Frank shook his head. Jack turned to the others and received similar responses. "Then it's settled. We just get behind the barricades in the gun store and hold them off."

"Can I have a head start?" Alex asked, still panting.

"No, I need you to shoot the tanks. Ryan, Frank, get going," Jack said, gesturing back at the store with a jerk of his head. He knelt down and got to work tying the tanks together.

* * *

><p>Less than ten minutes later, the bomb was complete. Jack stood up and admired his work, sighing with pride. "Where'd you learn to build this stuff?" Alex asked, eyeing him uneasily.<p>

"What stuff?"

"You built pipe bombs in twenty minutes. And this even bigger bomb in ten."

"I was in EOD back in the day. And some…less than legal escapades when I was a teenager," Jack chuckled.

"EOD?"  
>"That's a story for another time, when we're not in danger of being eaten for every minute we stand around. C'mon, let's go," Jack said, slapping him on the back. The pair ran back up the street from the tanker. When they were parallel with the storefronts, they turned around and looked back at the tanker. "Okay, aim down that nice scope of yours, and pop off one good shot." Alex did, so inhaling. He paused, then exhaled, centering the crosshair on the barely-visible bomb. He fired, dead on target. There was a soft hiss, then a gout of flame became visible, then a large explosion. Then the tanker caught fire and there was a massive explosion, shaking the ground. A column of smoke and fire stretched high into the sky.<p>

Jack looked up at his handiwork, smiling open-mouthed, eyes shining with pride and satisfaction. "Now that blew up nice," he muttered, euphorically. A cacophony of high-pitched cries echoed through the night, snapping both men out of their trances.

"Oh shit," Alex swore. "Let's get out of here!"

Infected began streaming out of buildings and alleys, clambering over the nearby fence barricades all over the street. Jack and Alex sprinted for the safety of the store, scrambling through the open part of the window and falling onto the floor almost on top of each other. "That…was fucking loud," said Ryan.

"Got it with his first shot," Jack said, picking himself up and pulling out his shotgun. "We'll make a trooper out of him yet."

"_Lots_ of incoming!" Frank shouted, raising his shotgun to his shoulder and firing through the door, shattering its glass windows.

"Pipes! Use the pipe bombs!" Jack shouted, firing into the mass of infected attempting to force their way through the damage window barricade. Frank nodded and pulled his bomb from between his belt. "Fire in the hold!" he shouted, lighting the fuse and heaving it through the door window. It beeped, shrill and at a steady rate, as it bounced across the lot. A crowd of infected chased it as it went. It exploded a few seconds later, churning a dozen zombies into vapor.

"Door's going! Losing it!" Frank yelled, taking several steps back. Half a dozen pairs of hands beating on the metal frame bent it forward. Weakened and squealing under the persistent pressure, it finally buckled and shattered, sending a stream of infected staggering into the store.

"Fire on the floor!" Ryan yelled, tossing his lit Molotov cocktail onto the floor just in front of the doorway. It immediately threw up a wall of fire, igniting the unfortunate infected trapped in its radius, as well as the many more that charge mindlessly through the doorway. On the right window, the plywood barricade suddenly split apart and crashed to the floor.

"Oh dear," muttered Frank. He reloaded several shells into his shotgun and pumped fire into the pack swarming through the newfound entrance.

"Frank, shift right and cover that! Jack, take the middle!" Alex barked, waving his hand. He popped the head of an infected attempting to climb through the left window.

"On it!" Jack replied. There was a loud, primal scream, and the barricade on the left window shattered into splinters. Jack screamed a swear as the Hunter landed on top of him, knocking Ryan back against the shelves. "Get it off! Get it off, damn it!" Jack cried, as he frantically attempted to hold off the Hunter's slashing claws. Before Alex could swing his rifle to bear, Ryan drew his magnum and fired several shots into the Hunter, one-handed. The corpse flew off like a ragdoll and Jack swiftly scrambled to his feet, drawing his machete and slashing into the horde pouring through the now-open window. "Take the door, I can't shift now!"

The fire from the Molotov had finally died, and more infected began dashing inside. Ryan and Alex shifted their aim and began opening fire with magnum and rifle respectively, cutting down zombies with one shot each. Alex withdrew his own pipe bomb from the pocket of his hoody and drew back his arm to throw. "Grenade!" he shouted, throwing it as hard as he could through the left window. The horde attempting to force its way inside immediately peeled off and gave chase, vaporizing in an explosion moments later. On the other side of the store, Frank cried out in alarm. Alex turned to see a Smoker's tongue wrapped around his chest. Taking careful aim, he exhaled and fired a single shot, snapping the tongue and freeing his friend. Frank immediately turned around, drawing his pair of nine-millimeter pistols, and opened fire. Two seconds later, there was an explosion and final, heaving gasp as the Smoker exploded into its signature cloud.

Jack pushed away one last zombie with his free hand and brought his machete down with the other, messily bisecting its chest. Panting heavily, he put away the blade and picked up his shotgun off the ground. "Okay, I think we're clear. Everyone alright?" he asked.

"I could use a breather," gasped Frank, leaning against the wall with his hands on his knees. "That damn Smoker did a number on me."

"We're okay," Alex answered. "You got pounced. You good?"

Jack slapped his chest, which was slashed twice but with no blood. "Kevlar. His claws couldn't quite get through well enough. God bless the USMC," he said, beaming.

Alex gave him a look of bewilderment. "You're wearing a bulletproof vest?"

"Not quite. IOTV, 'liberated' from the quartermaster just before I got discharged," Jack replied, smirking.

"Hang on…how much does that weigh?" Ryan asked.

"About thirty pounds, give or take."

"And…you're lugging it around on the off chance we run into…what? Zombies with guns?"

"Saved my ass there, didn't it?"

Ryan sighed and rolled his eyes. "Some people…"

"You're just jealous," Jack replied, still smirking. He made the reading flicking motion with his finger again, bobbing his head.

"Alright, I think it's time to move again," said Alex. "Frank, you good?" Frank gave him a thumbs-up. "Grab ammo and let's get out of here."

* * *

><p>Cautiously, the group stepped outside, feet crunching on broken glass and carefully avoiding the gore and corpses strewn across the sidewalk and lot. The street had been repopulated by many idle infected who seemed to have lost interest in the commotion – the survivors made short work of them. The streetlights that had been working before were now destroyed, but some parts of the charred, smoldering remains of the destroyed gas tanker still burned, dimly illuminating the way ahead. Avoiding the still-scorching hot remnants, they didn't get far before reaching yet another high fence barricade at the intersection merely feet away. "Well that's just fucking great!" Ryan snarled, throwing up his hands in frustration. "Thanks a lot, CEDA! These goddamn fences <em>really<em> help us out!"

"Hang on," Alex said. He spotted a sheet of wood leaning up against the fence. It was sprayed with the shape of a house, with a cross inside. There was an arrow pointing off to the right…at a tall, solid brick building. Examining it further, the build was not so solid – the tanker had crashed right through it, carving a gash in the wall that opened up a small store. "This way! Safehouse ahead!" he called, leading the way inside.

As they passed the shelves, Alex paused and grabbed some small sections of metal piping. Unseen by the others, Jack pocketed a bottle of hydrocodone. "That'll do," he muttered. They stepped through the windows into yet another street. Looking off to the right, he spotted a tall hotel at the end, several lights still on. The red steal door in place of the normal lobby entrance was a very welcome sight. "Over there! Let's move!" he said, taking aim and dropping a pair of nearby, idle infected. It was a short jog and a few rounds of spent ammunition to get to the safety of the hotel.

"Shut that door!" Ryan said, as Frank brought up the rear. As it slammed shut, Alex said, "Well, we made it. Again."

* * *

><p>Hi again. If you can't understand the first part of this chapter, it's supposed to be saferoom graffiti. It's a little annoying because FFN uploader is rather limited when it comes to special characters like less-thangreater-than, lines, or arrows, as well as indentations and extra spaces. So if anyone knows how to get around it let me know please, I guess. Anyways, I'll be uploading the other three parts whenever I feel like it. Probably weekly or something like that.


	3. The Park

Saferoom Graffiti – The Stores/The Park

Evacs at the hotel! Get through the park! - OVERRUN

NOBODY IS GOING TO SAVE US

Get to the train station!

Andy: Jim's dead. Anna and I are getting out of the city. See you in Fairfield. –Grant

||||| ||||| ||||| ||||| ||||| ||||| ||||| ||||| ||||| || - WUSS!

PITTSBURGH IS GONE *Picture of a mushroom cloud*

Army pulled out to Riverside - ECHO

REVELATION 6:8

_The Park_

Jack pulled his black baseball cap low as he read the messages scrawled across the walls of the hotel lobby. He sat down in a chair, limply, and pulled it even lower, so that it covered his face. "What's the matter with you?" Ryan asked. "_You_ can't be tired, can you?"

Alex shushed him, he pointed at the message on the wall, then at Jack's cap – it was emblazoned with the logo of the Pittsburgh Steelers. Ryan shrugged and spread his hands. "C'mon, man, we've all lost something. The only important thing is surviving, now," Ryan said.

Jack straightened his cap and grabbed some ammunition from the pile on the hospitality desk. "Meh, it was kind of a shithole anyways," he muttered. "But you know, once you start hating those things you see every day, you never think you'll miss it, until it's gone."

"What's this Riverside place? Think the train'll take us there?" asked Frank.

"It's somewhere to the south of here. Few miles from Fairfield I think," Alex answered. "It doesn't matter. We go where the train goes, it's that simple. Let's get moving again." With difficulty, he lifted the bar from the saferoom door and let it fall to the floor, pushing the door open. It led out into a side hallway, deserted but for a single swaying infected. Alex dropped him with one shot and looked around. "I think this is a staff area."

"Only way to go. The door into the main community area is boarded up or nailed shut or something. Can't get through," said Frank.

"There should be a stairway to the next floor. We can go up, over, and around." Alex walked to the end of the hall and looked to the right. "Yeah, here it is." He slung his rifle across his back and grabbed the wooden baseball bat. "Close encounters, guys. Be on your guard."

Jack put a hand on his shoulder and held him back. "If it's close encounters, buddy," he hefted his machete and shotgun in each hand, smirking. "You better let me take point." He stepped in front of Alex and carefully crept up the stairs. At the next floor, he turned the corner and swept the hall with the beam of his flashlight. "Clear, it looks like. Just a few wandering zeds."

As they slowly and steadily cleared the hotel hallway, they searched each of the rooms for anything useful. "Found this," said Alex, holding up a pipe bomb.

"What? Someone else had the same idea we did? What are the odds?" Jack wondered.

"It doesn't have a beeper," Alex replied.

"Let me fix that," Jack grabbed a loose chair lying on its side in the middle of the hallway, stood it upright, and climbed on top of it, reaching for a fire alarm near the ceiling. "Hammer," he said, extending his hand, palm open. Alex took a hammer from his belt and gave it to him. Jack smacked the fire alarm once, twice, then pulled off the white covering and tossed it away. He carefully cut the wires of the alarm itself and pulled it free, quickly attaching and wiring it to the bomb as he stepped down from the chair. "There we go," he said, handing it to Alex. "You can have that one."

"Hang on," Frank grunted, cupping a hand around his ear. "Do you kids hear…?"

"An Ex-Wife," Ryan interrupted. The others looked at him, confused.

"How old are you?" Alex asked.

"Twenty-four."

"And you've been married?"

"Almost. Quite a few ex-girlfriends, though, back in the day," Ryan replied, smirking.

Frank chuckled. "I actually rather like that name."

"You mean those things that sit there and cry until you set them on fire?" Jack asked. The others blinked and stared at him for a few seconds.

"Uh, I don't think it's a good idea to set them on fire…" Alex said.

"Well, it works pretty well. They scream and flail around like they're blind, and you just run away until the die. That's why I call them 'Witches' – burn the Witch!" Jack chuckled.

Ryan threw up his hands. "You know what? Let's just let Jack name them all. So we don't get confused or something."

"Fine, Witch," Frank grunted. "What do we do about her?"

"Set her on-"

"Just avoid her," said Alex, cutting Jack off. "She sounds like she's upstairs, in a room if I had to guess. Not very hard to just avoid, considering we're going _down_stairs."

"Alright, then," said Frank, nodding his head. "Should we still let Jack take point, then?"

"As long as he promises not to screw around at our expense," Alex replied, shooting Jack a stern look. Jack was already moving again, nearly at the stairwell at the other end of the hall.

"Sorry to rain on your parade, but…" Jack motioned at the stairwell with his shotgun. It was blocked by a mountain of suitcases and several couches.

Alex rubbed the back of his head. "How on earth did those get there?" he grumbled. "Oh well. Just…clear it out, I guess?"

"Screw that," said Ryan. "Let's just head upstairs. There's probably a fire escape somewhere."

"But, the Witch…?"

"She's probably in a room, as you said. Still easy to avoid."

Alex shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, I guess. But I hope there _is_ a fire escape. I don't fancy jumping down three stories."

There were more idle infected on the third floor as well, mostly sitting down or resting their heads against the walls. "Oh shit, look at those two!" Jack said, pointing and laughing. Two infected were bashing at each other mindlessly down the hallway.

"Ho-ly shit," Alex said, flabbergasted. "So the infected actually _fight_ each other?"

"They're kind of like animals. I've seen this before," said Frank, rubbing at his mustache. "Kind of like how humans get mad at each other and even fight over someone bumping into them. Except, the zombies are even easier to provoke."

"There's a window up ahead. I think I see the scaffolding of the fire escape," said Ryan, pointing.

"Search the rooms?" Jack asked.

"Eh…" Alex rubbed the back of his head again. "Sure. Let's just be careful."

While Ryan and Frank cleared the hallway, Jack and Alex swept each hotel room for items, finding nothing. Before opening each door, Jack took a moment to listen. He paused at one, dropping to a crouch. "I think she's in here," he whispered, pointing. "Watch my back." The others arrayed around him, watching various directions. Jack eased open the door. It creaked ominously. His flashlight fell upon a swaying form, sitting on its knees, sobbing softly while facing the back wall. It suddenly gasped in alarm, turning toward him. Its eyes glowed, not like the common infected – they looked like a pair of lanterns in a distant darkness.

"Um, er, um, what. Oh crap," Jack stuttered, as the Witch began rising to her feet, now growling, louder and louder. Ryan turned around and knocked Jack's shotgun aside.

"Lights _off_, you idiot!" he hissed. "Don't even look at it!"

Jack quickly flicked off his flashlight and looked away. The Witch's growling gradually died away, until she was finally back to her endless, terrible sobbing. Jack squinted, peering into the darkness. "I think there's a Molotov on the-"

There was a feral cry and the wood of the door split open with a sudden crack. Jack yelped in alarm and leapt back almost a foot, away from the clawed hand reaching for him through the newly-made hole in the door. There was another cry and the wood shuddered again – a Hunter. Frank swiftly turned and pumped shotgun shells through the weakened door, until the hunter let loose its death squeal and crumpled to the floor. The witch was growling again, nearly on her feet. Ryan grabbed the knob of the door and slammed it shut, Jack scrambling back from it and huddling against the wall.

"Fuck this. We're leaving. Now," Ryan growled, scowling. He quickly dashed down the hallway to the open window at the end, leaning through it. "Yup, it's the fire escape. Let's go!" He stepped outside and beckoned for them to follow, then headed down the metal stairs, feet clanging away. At the bottom, Ryan dropped the ladder to the ground and slid down, then ran out of the alley and began picking off the infected standing around in the main street. "This way!" he shouted, looking back at the others, who were lagging behind his faster pace.

"Careful," said Frank. "I hear a Boomer." Above the gunfire, they could barely hear the gurgle in the distance. "The others stepped out into the street, where Ryan was crouched, picking off distant infected.

"Barricades down both ends of the street," Ryan said, standing. "We've gotta cut through the park." He led the way toward the chest-high brick walls that ringed the wall, heading for the entrance. He stepped through the gap and

A Boomer puked all over him. Ryan swore and turned, firing at the fat mass crouched behind the wall, barely visible through the blinding bile. "Incoming!" jack yelled. Infected began to appear in force, rushing out from bushes and the ends of the street.

A loud, high-pitched shriek filled the air. Alex cursed, turning around to see the blur of a pouncing Hunter soaring towards him from the roof of the hotel.

"Something's got me!" Frank called. Jack turned to see him being dragged back toward the hotel – a Smoker was in a second-floor window. He pushed his way through the frenzied horde toward Alex. "Ryan, HELP!" he bellowed.

Ryan was crouched and huddled against the wall, attempting to beat off the infected trying to rip him apart. "I can't see, I can't move. _You_ help_ me_!" he snarled. Tiring, he let his guard down for a moment, and three zombies swarmed him, ripping at his clothes and exposed skin. Ryan yelped and fell to the ground, dropping his submachine gun and drawing his magnum. "Agh! I'm down! Help!"

Jack ventilated one zombie and swung his shotgun at another like a bat, ripping its head clean off. He lost his grip on the weapon and left it to the mob, drawing his machete. Alex was on the ground, desperately attempting to prevent the Hunter from clawing into his chest. Jack heaved and shoved the Hunter off. It rolled backwards, over its head, and landed on all fours, growling and ready to pounce. But it never did – Jack lopped off its head with his next swipe.

"Get Frank!" Jack yelled, teeth clenched and eyes scowling as he hacked back through the horde. "I've got to get Ryan!" Alex nodded, panting. He raised his rifle and centered his sights on the Smoker. It exploded into smoke with a single shot, dropping Frank to the ground. Frank immediately got to his feet and tore into the remaining horde with his shotgun.

Ryan didn't realize he had started screaming. There was nothing he could do but kill off the zombies kicking at him one by one, but there were simply too many. His vision started to haze and fade to darkness…then the remaining infected circled around him lost various body parts in quick succession. A silhouette wearing a baseball cap appeared. Something slapped him across the face and suddenly his vision cleared up. He was staring straight into Jack's grey eyes – they weren't their normally cloudy, airy selves, but cold and hard, like steel. "You stay right here, you son of a bitch. Get on your feet and we'll patch you up," Jack said, grabbing Ryan by the chest and hauling him up, bracing him against the brick wall.

Ryan grunted and grimaced, clutching at the side of his chest. "I think I broke a rib," he muttered. "Or several."

Jack chuckled, pulling out his first aid kit. "Here's my shot of morphine," he said, pulling out a small injector. "Take it, patch yourself up with the bandages. I'm gonna check on the others."

"Okay," Ryan whispered, hoarse. Jack slapped his shoulder and walked off, not hearing Ryan's grunt of pain and muttered curse.  
>Frank riddle the last, twitching zombie with pistol rounds until it stopped moving. Alex leaned against the wall, panting and holding pressure against a gash in his chest. "Don't worry," Jack said, loud and overdramatic, as he smiled and strolled across the road to pick up his lost shotgun. "I saved everyone."<p>

Alex grunted in amusement, wrapping his side in bandages. "That was bad. No jokes," said Frank.

"Just making light of a bad situation, old man," Jack replied. "I think it's safe to say the park is infested."

Alex sighed. "We've got no choice but to go through, though," he said. "Moral of this story," he continued, raising his voice. "Is 'Don't run off way far ahead of the group!'"

"Oh, shut up!" Ryan snapped, rolling his eyes.

"We heard that Boomer before it puked . If you'd just waited, we could have-"

"Fighting's not going to help!" Frank interrupted, scowling. "We pick ourselves up and keep moving. That's all that matters now."

"Frank's right. The faster we move, the fewer fights we have," Alex said. "I heard CEDA had originally set up here in the park. Maybe we'll find something useful."

The park was dark and quiet. Only a handful of lights still worked, most of those on the brink of death. The city park had always been rather large – the infected were few and far between, and it had probably helped that the earlier Boomer horde had cleared many of them out. They pushed through a large, deserted swing set. Alex stared as they passed by – he could swear one swing was still-

"What was that?" he whispered, raising his rifle in alarm. His eyes darted back and forth, searching bushes and darkened fields.

"What was what?" asked Frank, half-raising his own weapon cautiously.

"I swear I heard someone laughing," Alex replied, whirling his head in every direction. "Like a child."

"I don't hear anything," said Ryan. "You must be going crazy," he chuckled.

Alex rubbed the back of his head. "I could've sworn…" he shrugged his shoulders. "I guess not." He looked back. The drifting swing was silent and still.

"I see some tents and trucks next to that picnic pavilion up ahead," said Jack, pointing.

The pavilion was ringed with sandbags, with a heavy machine gun mounted in the center of the wall facing them. Ryan whistled. "That's a damn big gun," he said. "Wish we could pick it up and take it with us."

"Attention," Frank recited, reading a sign mounted on a nearby fence barricade. "Please follow established queues. Do not break cordon under any circumstances. Violators will be shot," he finished. Frank chuckled weakly. "Paints a pretty picture, doesn't it? Think this is what's waiting at the train station?"

"I'll go down shooting before I let them line me up against a wall," said Ryan, scowling.

"Hey guys, check this out!" shouted Jack, from behind a SWAT truck. He was smiling, open-mouthed and giddy. He was also holding a SPAS-12 semi-automatic shotgun. "Jackpot!" he giggled, clearly proud of himself.

Ryan and Frank looked over the gun rack in the back of the truck, themselves smiling. "You know what? I won't punch you for that one," said Ryan, grabbing an assault rifle and stroking it like a pet.

"Nice find," said Frank, grabbing the other, different-model shotgun. "I think we're ready for anything now."

"Uh, guys?" Alex said, peering and pointing into the night. "What's that?"

The ground began to shake, and a great rumbling approached, fast. The others looked around the side of the truck just in time to spot a car flying through the air, just before it crashed through and crushed the nearest fence barricade. The huge, oncoming black silhouette roared and beat its chest. "GET BACK!" Jack yelled, retreating into the open field. "TANK!"

The other quickly followed his lead and the Tank leapt over the twisted, ruined fence. Jack crouched on a picnic table and opened fire with his new weapon. "We'll distract it! Ryan, get over to that heavy machine gun and pour the fire!" he ordered, pointing at the fortified pavilion. Ryan nodded and moved off far to the left. Meanwhile, the Tank ripped off a chunk of the ruined fence and heaved it through the air. "MOVE!" Jack shouted, diving to his left. The chunk of metal slammed into the picnic table, shattering it to splinters. Jack rolled and slid, landing on his feet, immediately bringing his shotgun to bear and firing. The Tank was after him, charging on all fours like an animal. Backing up as fast as he could, he pumped shell after shell into the oncoming tanks face, but it was still slightly faster than him. As soon as it was in range, the creature swung a swollen fist – but Jack was already gone, having dived to the side once again.

Enraged, the Tank ripped the top off a nearby picnic table and threw it in Jack's directed. He narrowly avoided it by dropped flat on his back from his crouched stance – the wooden slab nearly took off his nose. "Oi!" someone shouted. The Tank turned to face Alex, who was waving from behind another picnic table. Alex raised his rifle and started firing round and after round into the Tank. "Come on over here! I'm slow and skinny!" he shouted. As the Tank turned its attention to him, Alex made a mad dash away. On the ground, Jack rolled and jumped to his feet, pulling his Molotov cocktail from his belt. Lighting it, he tossed it in a perfect arc, and the glass bottle shattered at the Tank's distant feet. The gasoline immediately ignited, lighting the Tank up like a towering inferno. Inflamed and frustrated, the Tank roared and ripped out a large chunk of earth, heaving it at Alex. Frank called out a warning and Alex dove for the ground – the chunk soared just over his falling head.

"Hey!" Ryan shouted, cocking the .50 caliber machine gun. "Eat on this, you stupid bastard!" The gun spat a stream of high-caliber bullets, each slowing the Tank, nearly causing it to stumble.

"This is it! Pour it on 'im!" Alex shouted. Spread out among the tables, Frank, Jack, and Alex crouched and emptied their weapons into the beast. It became frustrated to the point of madness, ripped apart another picnic table and heaving it at Ryan. Ryan swore, but left the gun too late. The slab slammed into him and he fell to the ground, crying out in pain as several bones in his upper body strained or broke. "Scatter! Let it burn!" Jack shouted, as the Tank resumed its pursuit of Alex.

"Hey! Help me out here!" Ryan yelled. Frank broke off from the battle and went to get Ryan back on his feet. Alex looped back around toward the pavilion and climbed on top of the SWAT truck, the Tank is hot pursuit.

"Don't stop moving! Don't stop!" Jack yelled. The Tank jumped up and grabbed hold of the side of the truck, hauling its immense bulk onto the roof. Its weight left large dents where its fists were even in the trucks armor. Alex paused and emptied his rifle clip into the Tank's face as it climbed up, but as he jumped off the roof the Tank swiped at him with a powerful fist. The blow clipped him and Alex went flying, shouting in pain and alarm. He rolled and slid across the ground, losing his grip on the rifle, and finally ground to a halt, lying limply in a heap, unable to pick himself up.

Jack swore as the Tank turned its attention against to Ryan, who was only now getting to his feet with Frank's help. They swiveled and opened fire, backing up as fast as they could until they hit the back wall of sandbags. The Tank smashed apart part of the ring, but then something smacked it in the pack, enraging it and turning its attention the other way. Jack quickly backed up again, smug and smirking, and rapidly fired ten shotgun shells into the Tanks face point-blank. Alex and Frank reloaded and poured even more fire into its back. Frenzied, it raised its massive fists as it closed on Jack – calm and confident, Jack drew his machete and slashed it across the front. Emitting a final, lengthy groan, the beast fell to its knees and onto the ground, finally defeated.

Jack kicked the corpse, slashed it once for good measure, then put away the blade and reloaded his shotgun. "I think we're clear," he said. Frank rushed to help Alex as Ryan patched himself up using a first aid kit.

"Those damn things take a hell of a beating," Ryan sighed. "What do you call it? A Tank? That's a really fitting name, I must admit."

Alex, back on his feet, stumbled as he walked into the half-wrecked pavilion. He pulled out his first aid kit and stuck himself with his ration of morphine. "That damn well hurt," he said, bandaging himself.

"I found some hydrocodone earlier," Jack said, pulling out a bottle of pills. "Anyone need 'em?" Ryan raised his hand, and Jack gave him a handful of painkillers.

"Thanks," Ryan said, picking up his weapon. Jack popped a few into his own mouth as well, then tossed the bottle away.

"There's a barricade blocking the way out up ahead," said Alex.

"We can't just climb over the chest-high walls?" Ryan asked, rolling his eyes.

"The walls are eight feet tall on that side of the park," Alex snapped. "It's a bad part of town."

"Well, the Tank grabbed a car from that direction. How'd he get it in?" Frank asked.

"We'll see."

Moving on, the field in front of fenced-off exit of the park had several abandoned cars spread about it, evidently let inside the cordon before the entrance was fenced off. One flashed and chirped as they got near. "Well, that one still works at least," said Ryan. "Who says the others don't?"  
>"What are you thinking?" asked Frank, rubbing at his mustache and scratching his head.<p>

"Hotwire a car, send it crashing through the fence."

Jack giggled. "You sure I can't just find something explosive and blow it up instead?" he asked, smiling fiendishly.

"I'd rather not attract a horde, thank you," said Alex. "Let's go with Ryan's plan. Can you actually hotwire a car."

Ryan looked away and scratched the back of his neck. "I might have discovered…discreet ways to have joyrides back in the day. Let me give it a shot."

"Then get to it, dude," Alex said, motioning towards an idle, unalarmed car with his rifle. "Cops are gone, man. We don't care what you did as a teenager."

Jack breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Really? Well, that's good." There was a period of silence that lasted several seconds. The others stared at Jack. "Er…" Alex stuttered. "It wasn't _murder_, was it?"

"Oh, nonono, nothing like that," Jack said, waving his hands in front of himself. "I…_might_ have experimented a little with some smoke and fire. Emphasis on fire." The others continued to stare at him. "Okay, okay! I _accidentally_ might have…. By accident, I swear!"

Ryan shook his head and rolled his eyes, then smashed in the window of the nearest car and let himself inside. Alex moved closer to Jack and whispered into his ear, "Please don't set me on fire. Set Ryan on fire." Alex smiled and Jack chuckled.

"Hey Frank," Jack called. "Can I have your Molotov?"

"No," Frank replied, deadpan. He shielded his Molotov protectively.

Jack chuckled through a wide grin. "Then can I-"

Ryan's car growled and wheezed, rumbling to life. "Good to go!" He said, sticking a thumbs-up out the door. "Rock," he continued, extending an arm and beckoning with open palm. Alex picked up a decent-sized rock off the ground and put it in Ryan's hand. Ryan weighed it for a moment, then tossed it away. "Bigger." Jack put a large rock heavy enough that it required both his hands into Ryan's still-waiting hand. Ryan quickly lost hold of it, and yelped when it smashed one of his feet. He sat up and scowled venomously at Alex before picking the rock back up, then lay back down across the seat. "Get ready," he said, putting the car into drive. "Here we go!" Ryan dove out of the car just as it rapidly accelerated to speed. The car smashed into the fence barricade and it toppled to the ground with a loud crash, smashing a pair of cars abandoned in the street. Standing up, Ryan clapped his hands together. Then the chirping car next to them went off, its alarm screaming, piercing the silence of the night.

Frank covered his face with his hand and rubbed at his forehead. "Looks like this won't be so easy after all," he groaned, just before a series of loud barks and calls overtook the whine of the car alarm.

Alex swore. "Get back, guys. Get the fuck back. Let's hunker down in the pavilion," he said, slowly stepping backwards as the squeals and clamor of dozens of rushing infected drew near. He turned and broke into a full sprint as the horde came into view, rushing around the corner, clambering over stone walls and fence barricades. The others promptly followed suit, vaulting over the sandbag barriers and taking up firing positions, covering each open side and taking aim at the oncoming horde. Alex and Ryan opened fire immediately with their long-range rifles – as the mob drew near, Jack and Frank blew large holes in the ranks using their shotguns. As the infected attempted to climb over the sandbags, the survivors shoved them back, following up with a burst of fire to keep them on the ground.

There was a loud shriek and Frank cried out in alarm. Turning, Alex saw Frank pinned to the ground by a Hunter, a dozen infected surging over the sandbags and surrounding him. "Alex, cover!" Jack shouted, rushing away from his station and bashing at the mob surrounding Frank. Jack drew his machete and hacked away at the zombies, spraying blood everywhere and nearly blinding himself. With on downward slash, the Hunter lost its arm and yelped, flying off Frank. As Frank tried to get to his feet, the surrounding zombies grabbed him and pulled him back to the ground, ripping and tearing at his clothes and skin. Grunting and yelling in pain, Frank drew his pistols and unloaded on his attackers, helping Jack clear them out and hold the line.

On the opposite side, Alex struggled the hold both his own side of the makeshift fortress and Jack's. "Hey, Ryan, I could use a little help here!" he shouted, reloading his rifle.

"I'm a _little_ busy myself, dumbass!" Ryan snapped back, releasing a continuous burst of fire into the horde. Alex grumbled and muttered a swear, gunning down another zombie attempted to crawl over the wall. He swiveled and crouched, firing rapidly at infected on his flank that were over the wall and rushing towards him. Suddenly, Ryan shouted from behind, "Something's got me! Help!" Alex turned to see a Smoker's tongue coiled around Ryan's torso, attempting to pull him up and over the wall into the waiting arms of the ravenous horde. Still crouched, Alex took aim and fired two shots, missing the first and cutting the tongue with the second. Ryan jerked free and whirled around, emptying a full clip of his assault rifle into the reaching, rushing swarm before they could overwhelm him. Reloading, Ryan turned a riddled several more zombies full of holes as they attempted to once again flank Alex through Jack's empty post.

The few minutes of the onslaught seemed to stretch into hours as the four men lost themselves in the adrenaline rush. Nevertheless, the horde soon began to thin out – the bulk of the infected were concentrated around Frank's prone form and his defender. As Jack decapitated two more zombies as they climbed over the sandbags, Frank cut down another attempted to claw at Jack's bag, his pistols clicking dry. Surrounded by corpses, Jack sheathed his blade and reloaded his shotgun, scanning the newly silent park for any stragglers before bending over and extending his hand to the old man on the ground. Once back on his feet, Frank sat down on the blood-drenched sandbags and pulled out his first aid kit. "Thanks for the save," he gasped, jabbing a hypo of morphine into his leg and grunting. Jack merely smiled and pointed at Frank with both index fingers, thumbs up, and nodded. "Just give me your other hypo and we'll call it even," Jack replied, rubbing his side.

Ryan slapped a new clip of ammunition against his rifle and loaded it, panting and leaning against the wooden support. "That…was an ordeal," he said exhaling sharply.

Alex rubbed the back of his head. "Not a _whole_ lot worse than what we've already done, dude," he said. "Stop being a big baby." Ryan rolled his eyes and flashed Alex his favorite hand gesture.

"Oh stop it," Ryan grunted, tightening a bandage on his arm with his teeth. He tossed away the empty first aid bag and got to his feet, hefting his shotgun. "We're beat up and we've used a lot of our first aid supplies. We've got to find a safehouse soon before we run into anymore attacks like that."

"I've still got some _my_ kit," Jack said, smirking.

Ryan stared at him with an expression of mock surprise and slowly clapped his hands together. "Well that's something we haven't heard in a _while_ now, is it?"

Jack narrowed his eyes. "I also have some codeine left, which you aren't getting." Ryan mouthed a curse jerked his arms in frustration.

"Regardless, Frank's right," said Alex. "Luckily, using the advantages of a magnified scope, I have managed to spy a safehouse symbol on the wall of the building out by the street. It's pointing that way," he continued, pointing to the left of the park exit.

Gathering any ammo they could find in the military and police vehicles, the group stepped over the wrecked black fence and finally walked out into the street. Much of the horde shambling in the street was thinned out, but several dozen had wandered out from buildings and side alleys. Quickly following the direction of the spray-painted symbol marking the wall, the survivors cut a path through the idle infected and soon arrived at an intersection. The street leading to the west, running along the border of the park, was blocked off by a fence barricade; down the road to the west, a pile-up of wrecked cars was barely visible in the light of a small fire. Up ahead, the still-burning lights of the half-intact neon sign for the movie theatre dimly lit up the street, silhouetting more infected and scattered, abandoned cars.

"That must be it!" Alex shouted. "C'mon, guys. A little farther and we can rest up," he shouted, pulling ahead of the others.

"Hold on," Frank warned, eyes scanning the surrounding buildings and cars. "I think I hear a-"

A bloated Boomer rounded the corner of an overturned bus, gurgling and gagging as it rushed towards Alex. Startled, Alex instinctively opened fire, popping the Boomer with a single shot and covering himself with its bile. Swearing, Alex backed himself against the wall of the bus, blindly swinging his rifle around as he watched for the inevitable horde. His three companions rushed to his side, surrounding him and covering each direction as zombies sprinted out of alleys, spilled out of buildings, and fell out of windows. "Shove and shoot!" Jack shouted, acting out the directions. Three zombies fell backwards onto the ground, struggling to get back onto their feet before Jack put the butt of the shotgun to his shoulder and fired, shredding their bodies to pulp.

A Hunter leapt off the roof of a tall building on the corner, shrieking as it hurtled through the air, aiming for one of the survivors distracted by the frenzied horde. Mere inches away from Frank, it caught a mouthful of shotgun pellets a flipped backwards, bouncing across the pavement twice like a ragdoll before smacking into the hull of the bus. Frank surveyed the damage and nodded at Jack. "Nice shot," he said.

Jack reloaded his shotgun, swinging the butt at more infected as they closed in. "Just like shooting skeet when I was a kid," he said, chuckling and biting his lower lip.

Behind them, Alex reloaded his rifle and tapped them on the shoulder. "I can see again, guys! Let's get moving!" he shouted.

"Got it! Follow me!" Jack yelled. He rose from his crouch, shoving a path through the surrounding infected and emptied shotgun shells into their backs, whooping. The others followed, cleaning up any zombies he missed as well as the stragglers that continued to emerge from the buildings and alleys. Jack leapt onto the hood of a car in a single bound and blew off the head of one last zombie before reloading. "Safehouse right inside the doors!" he shouted, cocking the reloaded weapon. "Head on in, fellas! I'll check these freeloaders for tickets!" he shouted, grinning and taking aim. The other three piled inside, Ryan pausing inside the doorway to crouch and open fire to cover Jack. "We're in! Come on!" he shouted, beckoning. Jack dropped off the car and charged inside, grabbing the handle of the red steel door and slamming it shut. The relentless infected banged on the door in futility. "Well, that was a bit of a close call, wasn't it?" said Frank. Jack grimaced, then smiled, then grinned, then laughed. The others soon joined in, and they didn't know why.


	4. The Cinema

Saferoom Graffiti – The Park/The Cinema

THE TRAINS ARE STILL RUNNING - Army pulled out yesterday

Not on time

NONE OF YOU WILL SURVIVE

HEADING TO THE MALL TO HOLD OUT  
>ANY SURVIVORS WELCOME<br>-Roger + Peter, MPD SWAT

Brad,  
>Mark turned yesterday. Had to shoot him in the head.<br>See you at the station. I love you.  
>-Mel<p>

Brad,  
>Found Mel yesterday. Had to shoot her in the head.<br>She hadn't turned yet. See you soon.  
>-Ted B.<p>

-Brad M.  
>Don't open theater #8. I locked this<br>sick fuck in with the zombies

* * *

><p><em><span>The Cinema<span>_

Jack stuffed as many shotgun shells as he could into the pockets of his vest, looking up at the messages covering the wall. The ammo was piled on top of a table up against the boarded-up inner sets of double-doors leading into the theater lobby, with the graffiti scrawled across the plywood. One of the doors was not boarded up; instead, replaced by the red steel door that completed a saferoom. Frank leaned against a wall, resting his shotgun between the bars and blasting any infected that wandered nearby. "Hey guys, I think we should avoid theater number eight," Jack said, securing his pockets and checking his weapons.

Ryan looked up at the wall of messages briefly and rolled his eyes. "You read that crap? It's all garbage, you know."

Jack leaned back, half-sitting on the ammo table, and pulled a lighter out of a pocket in his cargo pants. He flicked it open, on, off, and closed repeatedly, staring at the brief flicker of the flame for a few moments before smirking and looking up at Ryan. "Wanna see if they're still showing movies in theater eight? You go ahead, tell me what happens at the end," he said.

Ryan, looked away, unloading his rifle, slapping the clip against it, and reloading the weapon. "I'm good," he muttered back.

Frank cleared his throat, walking over to the table to grab more ammo. "I've cleared out a lot of them already, but the lobby's still full of 'em," he said, rubbing at his mustache.

Jack flipped his lighter closed once again and stuck it back into his pants pocket. "Not a problem," he said, standing back upright and hefting his shotgun, walking over towards the door. He paused for a moment, pulled out his bottle of pills, and popped two more into his mouth. Breathing in and exhaling deeply, he turned, lifted the bar up and out, and pushed the door open. "Just stand behind me and clean up the mess."

"Jack…" Alex sighed, approaching from behind and resting his rifle across his shoulders. "If the messages are true, we've got a hell of a fight on our hands once we get to the station. Please don't squander the med supplies."

"Don't worry. I won't let the scary zombies scratch you," he said, imitating a baby's voice and chuckling softly. He strolled out of the doorway and casually began gunning down idle infected. Alex sighed and shrugged his shoulders, and the others followed him out.

The lobby was still lit dimly by the flickering and failing lights of the ticket booths and snack bars. Arcade machines whined weakly. The screen above the theatre entrance that once looped previews and advertisements only spat out snowy static. Jack blew away yet another zombie and hefted his shotgun upright with one arm, reloading shells with the other. He stepped under the flickering light above the theatre entrance and kicked over the poles holding up a nylon boundary band. Tilting his head, he recited a message scrawled across the opposite wall, "Witch that way." He cocked his head to the right and shrugged his shoulders. The faint echo of distant sobs could be heard. "Welp, I don't suggest going that way," Jack said. "Watch your step." He carefully stepped over a corpse sprawled across the center of the hallway. It was dressed in a sweatshirt, jeans, and backpack, desperately attempting to hold in the dried blood smeared across the floor. Alex shuddered as he passed by – the message on the wall was a series of dried blood smears.

Pausing at the next set of double doors, Jack stared at the flashing blue-white light filtering through the crack between the doors and the floor for a few moments. Raising his shotgun to his shoulder, he kicked in a door with his boot and cautiously filed inside. A series of shotgun blasts reverberated through the hall before Jack called out, "Okay, we're good." The others followed him inside. The vast screen enveloped the entire opposite wall, snowy static flashing across its face. Jack stepped around the corner of the raised gallery and fired his weapon even more, the yellow-orange muzzle flashes starkly contrasting against the blue-white screen. Jack gave a thumbs-up and again moved out of view.

"Okay, Jack, hang on a sec," said Alex, speeding up his walk to catch up with Jack. "Don't get cocky, dude. Goddamn Hunters, man."

Jack chuckled warmly and lowered his shotgun. "Skeet shots, kid," he said, smiling and slapping Alex on the shoulder. "I'm good at them."

"Oh hey, oh wise and fearless leader," Ryan interrupted, passing between them with his rifle slung across his shoulders. "I have a question: why'd we pass up the snack bar?"

Alex groaned and covered his face with his hand. "Did you learn anything from the incident back at the Burgertank?"

"Yeah, I hate Burgertank. Oh, and I'm still hungry."

"He means the food is still spoiled," Frank interrupted, leaning against the backs of a row of seats. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and beckoned Jack over. Jack pulled his lighter from his pocket and flicked it to life, lighting Frank's cigarette before putting it away. "Please, kid, tell me you're only acting this dense." Frank saw the faintest hint of a smirk as Ryan shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

"So why are we in here again?" Alex asked, rubbing the back of his head. Jack pointed at the faint red exit sign at the front of the theatre, overshadowed by the bright, flashing screen. Alex threw up one of his hands and sighed. "Can we not screw around while zombies are around, then?"

Ryan stretched out an arm and overdramatically panned it around in a semicircle. "I don't see any zombies around. You see something we-"

The screen suddenly flashed bright green and a preview suddenly roared to life. The survivors each jerked to life, hefting their weapons and scanning their surroundings, as the deep-voiced announcer sang the praises of a formerly-upcoming film. But even his booming bass was drowned out by the multitude of echoing pack calls. "Shit…" Jack muttered. He dropped to a crouch and spun around, shotgun aimed at the corner of the raised gallery where they had entered. "This is _not_ a good place to be, gentlemen!" he shouted, just before a dozen infected charged around the corner, screaming and grunting.

"Make for the exit!" Ryan shouted, vaulting over a row of seats and dashing for the opposite wall, firing at a mob of zombies sprinting towards him from the other entrance. The announcer's voice suddenly dropped into a loud brown note for a few seconds, and the screen died down into snowy static once again. Alex and Frank cringed, shifting their aim to cover Jack's rear, in the direction of the entrance on the opposite side of the gallery. As he left the cover of the rows of seats, Ryan glanced at the small door beneath the exit sign. He could hear banging and squealing, and could barely see the door's face bending and buckling beneath the constant pressure. He swore and brought his rifle to bear against it, opening fire and riddling the door with holes. A large chunk of metal fell away to reveal another horde of infected attempting to force its way through. Alex shouted a warning as he reloaded his own weapon, as several zombies had broken through his and Frank's wall of fire and aimed to claw at Ryan's exposed back. Grunting as they slashed at him, Ryan spun around again and shoved them backwards, putting the zombies down with a short burst of fire each. As he was reloading, the exit door fell apart and two dozen more infected charge inside, making a beeline for the exposed and vulnerable survivor in their path.

In the rear, Jack cursed as he exhausted the supply of shells stored in his shotgun. Dropping it to the ground, he drew his machete and hacked away the infected attempting to surround him, slowly backing up as their numbers became too much to bear alone. He caught a flicker of motion in the corner of his eye and swore again as he turned to face the shadow of a leaping Hunter. He bellowed yet another swear as he was too slow in his swing and the Hunter pinned him to the ground, infected swarming around his helpless form. Alex shouted a warning to Frank and tossed his rifle away, grabbing the bat slung across his back and wading into the fray, swinging as strongly as possible. Skulls cracked and necks snapped, and the Hunter squealed in pain as the bones in its upper torso shattered and its corpse rolled across the carpeted floor. Jack promptly got to his feet and shoved away half a dozen infected before dismembering them in detail. He managed to utter a gasp of thanks, clutching a bleeding gash in his side, before Alex turned back around to help Frank and Ryan.

Overwhelmed by the surrounding mob, Ryan fell to the ground and drew his magnum, blindly firing into the looming mass and shouting a string of colorful swears. Despite a lack of aim, the powerful .44 caliber bullets could blow out a zombie's torso, and the horde was quickly thinned out. Frank rushed to Ryan's side and finished off the remainder. Setting aside his empty weapon, Frank drew his pistols and crouched behind the seats next to Ryan, opening fire on the infected still streaming in through the exit doorway. Alex suddenly appeared behind Ryan and began hauling him to his feet. "Get up, you idiot. Stop being such a little bitch," he said. As soon as he could properly stand, Ryan withdrew into the rows of seats and began patching himself up as fast as possible. "Reloading!" Frank shouted, pulling out a pair of pistol magazines. Alex stepped up and swung his bat, caving in a zombie's face and sending it sprawling backwards.

"Alex, drop!" Jack shouted from behind, rapidly reloading his shotgun. Alex dropped flat to the floor and Jack's shotgun roared, spitting its full compliment of fire into the still-onrushing infected. When it clicked dry, the walls were sprayed with black blood and the air was hazy with gun smoke, but the theatre was deathly silent. Jack and Frank promptly resumed reloading and Alex got back on his feet.

"That was damn close, Jack," Alex said, panting heavily. He walked past him and retrieved his rifle lying on the floor, rubbing at some blood splattered across the stock. "Don't do it again."

"Here's a better idea," Jack said, monotone and deliberate, cocking his shotgun. He pulled out his bottle of pills and popped a handful into his mouth. "We get the fuck outta here and remind ourselves to never screw around in a still-working cinema again."

"Second," said Ryan, raising a hand as he tossed away the empty first aid kit and picked up his lost rifle. Frank, leaning out the exit doorway, raised his own hand wordlessly. "Hey, where's that lead?" Ryan called.

"Alley," Frank grunted.

"Oh great, an _alley_," Ryan said in an overdramatic tone. "I _hate_ alleys."

"Why's that?" asked Alex, following Ryan towards the doorway.

"Because we always get _ambushed_ is fucking alleys."

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye out," Alex replied, setting his eye to the scope of his rifle and sweeping the rooftops looming above.

"Oh, don't worry, I trust your aim!" Ryan said, mockingly. Alex glared at him.

Jack pushed ahead towards a bend in the alley, crouching and motioning for the others to slow down behind him. "I hate alleys, too," he said. "Not just the high likelihood and ease of ambush, also the high chance of friendly fire, no room for maneuverability, always the vertical combat factor…"

"Wow, Jack. I didn't think you knew some of those smart people words," Ryan snapped, grinning like an idiot. Jack ignored him, listening carefully. He sniffed the air deeply, crept up to the corner of the bend, and held up a hand. "I think-"

A Boomer hurled itself from a rooftop. Alex fired and missed, and the Boomer landed between Jack and the others. Ryan instinctively fired a burst into the Boomer and the creature exploded, coating Jack, Frank, and Ryan with green bile. Almost immediately, infected began swarming out of windows, raining down from above like artillery. Jack shoved and fired into the mass that quickly surrounded him but swore colorfully and fell to the ground in short order, firing his .45 at the zombies still kicking at him. Frank and Ryan, blind and overwhelmed, backed into the walls and shoved back as many infected as they could, desperately trying to keep on their feet.

Alex, the only one not covered in bile, spotted movement on the rooftops to their front. Whipping his rifle to bear, he fired five rounds rapidly, just missing a Hunter leaping from the roof. A Smoker attempted to shoot its tongue at Alex, but after another shot from his rifle it exploded into a cloud of smoke. Frank was shouting something unintelligible over the cries and squeals of the infected horde, but Alex saw the Hunter clawing at Frank's chest and immediately turned his attention to that matter. With a double tap the Hunter flew back into the wall. Clutching his chest, Frank got back onto his feet a let loose a barrage of shotgun shells, clearing out the zombies swarming around him. Ryan was screaming for help repeatedly, continuing to shove back infected with his now-empty rifle. With Ryan's arms tiring, Alex rushed forward to help, shoving back the remaining infected. There was a ear-piercing shriek from above and Alex raised his rifle toward the rooftops. A Hunter was already in flight, but landed on Jack's prone form instead. Taking careful aim, Alex put it down with a single shot to the head, then rushed to Jack's side and began hauling him to his feet.

Jabbing a morphine injector into his leg, Frank grunted and raised his shirt to apply bandages to the scratches on his chest. Ryan slumped back against the wall, panting and grunting in pain. "See?" he shouted, expression contorting in both rage and pain. "_This_ is why I hate alleys!"

"Oh, suck it up," Jack snapped, limping toward the wall to lean against it. His face twitched in pain and he popped more codeine into his mouth, breathing more easily. "Get on your goddamn feet. We need to keep moving before even more show up."

"You sure you're okay? You got pretty beat up," said Frank, reloading his shotgun.

"So did you, but you're not complaining," Jack glared at Ryan, who was just struggling to his feet. "Unlike some people."

"Here, take the last of this," Alex said, shoving the bottle of hydrocodone into Ryan's hands. Ryan gulped down the last two pills and nodded, reloading his own weapon. "Let's get moving again."

Frank took the lead and rounded the corner, quickly rushing straight up the deserted alley. It opened up to a new street, several infected scattered and shambling about. Frank beckoned for the other to catch up and drew his pistols, picking off the nearest zombies with a series of well-placed headshots. Jack moved ahead and jumped on top of a car. "Hey, there's the station," he said, pointing. "We're almost outta here!"

Ryan grunted in amusement before lifting his rifle to pick off more infected from afar. "I don't see anyone there," he said.

Jack's smile faded and he sighed. "Me neither. I think they evacuated." He jumped down from the car and moved up the street, blowing away infected as he went. A large, tall fence surrounded the station, layered several times like a maze or queue line. Two makeshift towers made of scaffolding flanked the new entrance, which was a small, wired gate. "Warning: alarm will sound upon forced entry," Jack recited. He grimaced and groaned in frustration. "Fuckin' figures. Bet it was the army jerkoffs who put this rig up."

"Alarm? Seriously?" Alex asked, catching up. "You sure it didn't get disarmed when they evacuated? And secondly, if they evacuated because of zombies, why isn't this gate already open?"

"Who cares?" Ryan interrupted. "The gate is alarmed. Zombies are inside. That's the situation, just deal with it!" Jack glanced at Ryan and smiled for a moment, muttering something under his breath. "Hey, I'm not the one whining this time, asshole," Ryan snapped.

"We got any grenades?" Jack asked. Frank took his Molotov from his belt and shook it. The gasoline gurgled inside. Alex raised his hand and pulled out a pipe bomb. "Where'd you find that? Oh, screw it, just give it to me," Jack snatched the bomb from Alex and quickly attached another dismembered fire alarm before handing it back.

"Alarm control's gotta be around somewhere," said Frank. "We open the door, run like hell, Alex throws his pipe, find the controls, and shut it off."

"Sounds like a plan," Jack said. He raised a leg and smashed in the gate with his boot. Almost immediately, the alarm siren began to whine, followed shortly by the loud, widespread pack calls of infected. "Get going!" Jack shouted, rushing ahead and blasting a swathe through the frenzied, formerly-idle infected ahead. Zombies began smashing at or climbing over the fences. As they rounded a corner, the fence behind them crashed to the ground and a small horde rushed in, clawing at their heels. Frank whirled around and let loose a barrage with his shotgun, blindly backpedaling swiftly and skillfully.

"Some use the fences were!" Ryan shouted, cutting down a half dozen zombies attempting to clamber over the first layer of fences.

"You guys cover me!" Jack yelled, having pulled far ahead as the horde caught up to the others. "Just gotta round one more bend and I think we're at the end. I'll grab the alarm!" Jack then disappeared from view for a moment as he rounded another corner behind a sheet of solid plywood fencing. There was a guttural roar and a deep, terrible laugh and something crashed back through the plywood, shattering it and knocking over the metal frame. Jack rolled across the ground and yelped in pain, thudding against the opposite fence. He drew his pistol and opened fire at the Tank charging through the destroyed barricade.

"Oh, _shit_!" Alex swore. He lit the fuse of the pipe bomb and heaved it as far away as possible. "Run! Runrunrunrunrun!" he barked, followed his own instruction and separating from the others. Ryan jumped for the nearest chain-link fence and climbed faster than he'd been running, clambering over the top and falling roughly to the ground on the other side. Frank attempted to follow, swearing as claws snagged at his clothing and continuously pulled him back. The Tank ignored Alex and rushed toward him, smashing him against a plywood sheet barricade with one punch. He drew his pistols and mowed down the horde as it rushed by him, luring their attention. He shouted for help, but the cry was lost among the clamor of the mob.

Alex slid into a crouch next to Jack and began to repeatedly mutter swear words under his breath as he threw the larger man's arm over his shoulder. Jack grunted and groaned in pain and exhaustion, offering little help to Alex. As the rumbling of the Tank drew nearer and its roars grew louder, Alex dropped Jack and dashed away, firing at the oncoming beast. The Tank swung its swollen fist at Alex as he reloaded, but Alex rolled away to the right, narrowly dodging the crippling blow. The Tank attempted to backhand him as it turned back, but Alex ducked, losing his footing. The Tank finally turned around to face him and raised both its fists as Alex attempted to scramble to his feet. It flinched and drew back as .45 caliber pistol rounds smacked into its face, roaring in pain as one of its eyes exploded. Jack reloaded his pistol, teeth clenched and scowling, as Alex rushed to the side and emptied his rifle clip into its torso. So transfixed was Alex's attention that he didn't notice the silence, broken only by gunfire, the squeal of infected, and the roars and grunts of the Tank.

Alex dodged another blow, which wrecked another section of the fence. Rolling again and sliding onto his feet, he sent the Tank staggering back with another full volley of powerful rifle rounds. Growling and roaring in fury, the Tank grabbed the fallen metal frame from the ground and heaved it towards Alex. Alex dove and rolled across the ground on his back, flailing his arms as he rolled over to get back to his feet. The Tank charged towards him but was met by a long, continuous spray of rifle fire – Ryan crouched behind it, emptying his assault rifle into its back. Alex scrambled to his feet and reloaded as the Tank's attention was diverted, and both he and Jack added their fire to Ryan's. Falling to its knees, the Tank sighed, bracing against the ground with its fists. The trio reloaded and relentlessly poured fire into its body until their ammunition was exhausted and the Tank fell flat on its face. Alex and Ryan panted heavily, nodding at each other and stowing away their now-empty weapons. Alex turned to help Jack to his feet.

"Don't help me! Help _him_!" Jack shouted, waving his pistol at Frank, who was surrounded by infected corpses. Alex rushed off in that direction as Ryan crouched at his side.

"How about you 'suck it up' yourself, soldier?" Ryan mocked, grabbing Jack across the shoulder and pulling.

"Never call a Marine 'soldier,' dead weight," Jack snapped, glaring at Ryan. He leaned against the wall and quickly jabbed himself with morphine, sighing in relief.

"Look who's talking," said Ryan, smirking. "Wasn't for me, that alarm'd still be on we'd be swarming with infected."

"Thanks," Jack said, half-seriously, pointing at Ryan with his thumb up. "Now you only owe me seven."

At the end of the lane, Alex patched Frank up with his own first aid kit. "Thanks, kid," Frank grunted, rubbing at his mustache. "I was fadin' to black back there."

"Don't mention it," said Alex, tossing away the bag and picking his baseball bat back up.

"The saferoom's just up ahead!" Ryan shouted, waving his arms in the direction of the train station. "Deserted but stocked!" Frank and Alex quickly caught up to Ryan and Jack and followed them down the now-wrecked quarantine line. Corpses – infected and uninfected alike – dressed in military garb lay scattered across the ground and scaffolding, along with an uncountable number of refugees. "It must have been a slaughter," Alex sighed.

"Much damn good the fences did them…" Ryan groaned. He gestured for them to get inside, then followed them in and shut the red steel door. "That was rough."


	5. Train Station Finale

Saferoom Graffiti – The Cinema/Train Station Finale

Remember Remember the 17th of November  
>The plague of rabies and rot<br>I see no more people  
>From my lofty church steeple<br>But they'll never be forgot 

Last trains running out tonight!  
>ARMY RAN OUT ON US<br>COWARDS

WE ARE THE FUTURE  
>You a zombie? - Carriers<br>The only good carrier is a dead carrier! - THERE INFECTING US ALL - - SHOOT ALL CARRIERS  
>The only good zombie is a dead zombie!<p>

FIGHT TO THE LAST MAN - I'd rather fight to the last zombie

TRAINS GONE MAKING A RUN UP THE TRACKS GOD PROTECT US  
>Good luck<br>RIP John, David, Anna, Brian, Jennifer

This evac station secured by the 152nd CIR! - COWARDS LEFT US TO DIE

Army evac'd out 200  
>God Bless the US Army - Got here an hour late Lost 3 people getting here FUCK THE ARMY<p>

Red, Joe, Jill, Serena  
>Passed through here 109/09

Wagner Family  
>Passed through here 1011/09  
>Whats left of it<p>

ANGELS OF DEATH (CLEARIN' THE WAY)  
>BRENDA JERRY CHRIS Phil SEAN BROCK JASON<p>

* * *

><p><em><span>Train Station Finale<span>_

Ryan grabbed himself a fresh first aid kit and peered out the barred window of the saferoom door. Dozens of infected shambled about the main concourse. "Alright, fearless leader. We've fought through hundreds of zombies to find that the military's abandoned our one hope of evac. There's hundreds more zombies around this useless station, and there's no longer any way to get out of this city from here," Ryan said, massaging his forehead with his hand. "So, what's the plan?"

"I…" Alex rubbed the back of his neck, head bent low and staring at the floor. "I don't know."

"So, 'stay here and die' is your brilliant plan?" Ryan snapped, exaggerated smile on his face.

"I DON'T KNOW!" Alex yelled. "Think of your own goddamn plan for once, if you're so much smarter than me!"

"Shut _up_," Frank snarled, true anger leaking into his tone of voice for the first time. "Ryan's right – we came here expecting an evac and it's not here, so we're stuck in the city. But Alex is also right – all you ever do is _bitch_ and _moan_, and I for one, am tired of it. I'll tell you what we'll do – we damn well _try_ to find a way out of here. We've committed to this course of action and it's too late to turn back now." Frank sighed deeply and rubbed at his mustache. "We're almost out of the woods. So long as we're still alive, there's _always_ hope. So shut up with your goddamn pessimism and get ready to roll."

Behind them, Jack cocked his reloaded shotgun and smiled broadly. "I like the sound of that," he said. He walked over to the saferoom door and kicked it open, hefting his weapon. "Let's roll!" Jack sprinted out into the wide concourse and began blowing zombies away, whooping and hollering. The others followed him out, carefully covering his flanks and advancing up the room.

Hundreds of bodies – infected and uninfected alike – lay strewn across the floor. Blood smeared along the walls and random, scrawled messages were scattered around the station, many unintelligible. As they passed the huge timetable near the main entrance, Ryan grunted in amusement – someone had emblazoned it with blue spray paint, declaring all trains to be 'CANCELED.'

Eventually, the group stepped over a waist-high, half demolished barricade blocking the main exit onto the platforms, a machine gun mounted behind with a uniformed, half-eaten corpse sprawled across it. Jack shoved the corpse away and examined the gun, opening it up and inspecting the ammunition and firing mechanism. Closing the chamber, he cocked the lever and stepped back. "Still good. Bit of blood in the ammo belt but that shouldn't bother a fifty-cal," he said.

"Mighty fine weapon to use against these flimsy-ass zombies," said Frank.

"I'd rather not need it," said Alex, gloomily. He stepped out onto the equally-desolated and deserted platforms. Baggage carts and small sandbag walls were scattered about the platforms on both sides of the two sets of train tracks. At the end of the platform they now stood on was a small table covered in weapons, ammunition – and a radio.

"-sage. If you hear this message, please respond immediately. This is the US military calling Morefield Train Station Evac Center. This message will repeat in five seconds…" came a voice from the radio. Alex rushed over to the table and grabbed the mic.

"This is a looping, pre-recorded message. It you hear this message, please-."

"Hello? Hello? This is, er, Morefield Train Station. Is anyone there?" Alex said into the microphone. Jack, Ryan, and Frank gathered around him. The radio was silent for several seconds before Alex repeated his call.

"Huh? What the-?" came a response at last. "This is the US military calling More Train Station Evac Center! Please repeat your transmission."

"This is Morefield Train Station. We've got four survivors here and we're wondering where our train is," Alex responded.

"Holy shit! Captain, we've got a call from survivors out there! Wait one, Morefield," the soldier said. There was a pause for several seconds. "Okay, we've pulled out of that area but we've got a refugee center several miles down the tracks, so we've been running trains when we can. There's a bridge that we have to raise and lower to run the trains through but when we lower it, it causes a lot of noise, so you'll have a lot of infected coming down on you. Sit tight for about ten, twenty minutes and we'll get to you. Can you do that?"

"Roger that, sir. We've fought through hundreds to get here, a few hundred more'll be a piece of cake," Alex said.

"Roger that, survivors. We'll be there in ten minutes!"

A horrendously loud squeal of machinery boomed from nearby. Frank peeked out down the tracks to see a drawbridge slowly lowering back into place. Seconds later, a massive chorus of calls and cries echoed from every direction. "Alright people, let's get ready to hold off the storm!" he shouted.

Jack immediately rushed down the platform back to the main entrance. He cocked the heavy machine gun and opened fire just as a massive horde of infected rushed around the corner. "Take up positions around Jack, guys! Keep any that come from this way off his back!" Alex shouted, crouching next to the main entrance and raising his scope to his eye. Frank stood against the wall just to Alex's left and Ryan backed into the corner of the platform to his right. So far, the onslaught was concentrated in front of the heavy machine gun – the tracks and platforms were quiet.

Then the skylight above shattered, showering them with falling zombies and broken glass. Alex reflexively lashed out with his rifle, shoving the infected back and finishing them off with single shots. Behind him, the machine gun fell silent and Jack swore. Turning around, Alex saw Jack drawing his machete from the sheath across his back, slashing repeatedly in wide arcs at the overwhelming mob attempting to force its way over the barricade. Jack hacked off numerous limbs and knocked back others, barely keeping them at bay. Alex took aim and carefully sniped individual infected over Jack's shoulders, eventually enabling him to resume firing the heavy machine gun.

"Watch it, kid!" Frank shouted, blasting one of several zombies grabbing Alex by the shoulders. Alex grunted as they clawed into his back, turning around and shoving them back once again. To Alex's right, a mob of infected crowded around Ryan, hiding him from view. Ryan's rifle fired off a long, continuous burst and the zombies fell away, Ryan shouting a stream of jeers and curses as he opened fire. Alex heard a shriek above his head and jerked his rifle upward – but the Hunter was already on him. A fraction of a second later, before the creature could cause any damage, Frank blew the Hunter off with two shotgun shells. Ryan called a warning and opened fire just before Alex and Frank heard the wet _schlerk_ of a Smoker. The tongue wrapped around Frank's torso and began to drag him towards the tracks, but the Smoker exploded under Ryan's burst of fire before Frank had been dragged a long distance.

Something exploded in the hall behind them and Jack yelled a curse, knocked back and momentarily stunned from the Boomer's detonation. Blind and furious, Jack drew his machete and desperately hacked away at the mob that overwhelmed his barricade. Nevertheless, the infected tore at his arms considerably before Alex and Frank came to his aid. Dozens upon dozens of corpses piled up in the hall, in front of and around the barricade and its machine gun. "I don't hear anymore," said Ryan.

"That can't be it," Alex said, half-smiling. "Can it?" There was a low, ferocious growl in the hallway before them. "Not quite," said Jack, drawing his shotgun. The Hunter turned the corner and pounced immediately – directly into Jack's swinging arms. The Hunter stumbled backwards and bounced off of the barricade, stunned and confused long enough for Jack to pump three shotgun shells into its face. "That does it."

"Hang on," said Frank, looking in every direction, focusing on the ceiling. "I thought I felt something sha-."

A Tank crashed through another skylight, roaring and laughing enthusiastically. "Everybody out! Out into the open!" Jack yelled, pushing Alex back out onto the platform. They dashed away from the oncoming Tank, narrowly dodging its first swing as they dropped onto the train tracks. "Frank! Light it up!" Jack barked.

"About damn time," Frank grunted. He withdrew the cigarette from his mouth and stabbed it against the cloth of his Molotov cocktail. The rag eventually caught fire and Frank threw it at the Tank's feet as it followed them. It grunted in pain and roared again in frustration. The beast grabbed the nearest stone column and ripped out a sizeable chunk, lifting it above its head and heaving it at Frank with all its might. Frank stumbled and fell as he attempted to dodge it, not quite as young and limber as the others. The Tank fixated its attention on Frank, jumping onto the central platform. As Frank got to his feet, the Tank smashed him against a column with its fist. Frank cried out a slid to the ground, drawing his dual pistols and desperately opening fire.

Jack whistled shrilly, catching the Tank's attention, and flailed his arms in the air. "Over here, you dumb son of a bitch!" he called, jumping up and down. The Tank turned its attention to him and Jack sped off, leaping back onto the train tracks and heading for the hallway. Turning around, he backpedaled as he rapidly emptied his shotgun into the Tank's flaming face. While Jack distracted the beast, Alex rushed to Frank's aid and Ryan crouched next to him, putting up a steady stream of rifle fire into the Tank's back. Once he was back on his feet, Frank immediately began patching himself up with his first aid kit, jabbing himself with a morphine syrette a setting a dislocated shoulder to loudly voiced distress.

Jack vaulted over the barricade, carefully avoiding the infected corpses to prevent himself from tripping. Swiveling the machine gun, he poured high-caliber fire into the Tank's face as it rumbled towards him until the barrel glowed red and steam clouded his vision. When the gun refused to fire, Jack backed up even more until his back hit the wall. The Tank smashed through the flimsy, makeshift barricade and continued its relentless lust for blood and vengeance. Cursing, Jack unloaded the last shells in his shotgun as the Tank smashed him against the wall. Alex leapt atop the half-wrecked barricade and put half a dozen rounds into the Tank's back. At last, the beast sighed and fell to its knees before finally dying. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Alex urged, grabbing Jack's arm and pulling. "I hear them coming! Get up!"

Jack and Alex retreated back to the open platforms, where Jack began to patch himself up. Ryan crouched in the doorway and Frank aimed upward at the shattered skylights. "Someone get on the gun!" Alex shouted, pointing.

"Guns overheated. I might have melted the goddamn barrel," Jack grunted, face twitching as he jabbed himself with morphine.

"Shit!" Alex swore. "Get in a corner, or against the wall, then!"

"Here they come!" Ryan shouted, opening fire at the horde swarming over the barricade. Dozens of infected fell before his fusillade, but once he had to reload the mob began to cluster around him, beating and clawing at Ryan. He grunted in pain and shouted for help, attempting to shove back his surrounding assailants. Jack reached into the fray and grabbed Ryan by the collar, dragging him out of the storm with one arm while hacking at zombies with his machete in the other. Tossing him backwards, Jack pushed forward into the still-oncoming horde, madly slashing and swiping, blood and body parts flying all around.

Ryan limped back to the table in the back corner and grabbed several clips of ammunition, then began patching himself up with a first aid kit. Suddenly, even more infected began rushing up the tracks from outside, clambering onto the platforms and dashing for the others. Ryan yelled a warning and crouched, carefully picking off individual zombies. At the main entrance, Jack still attempted to stem the overwhelming tide when there was a shriek and a Hunter erupted from the mass of infected, slamming into Jack and pinning him to the ground. Alex, in the middle of reloading, dropped his rifle and rushed to Jack's aid, swinging his baseball bat. Just as Jack was getting to his feet, there was a choking gurgle and a Boomer fell in through the broken skylight, exploding as soon as it hit the ground and covering them with bile. They hacked and smashed blindly with their melee weapons at the crowd closing in around them.

Frank jumped down onto the tracks from the central platform, pouring fire into the horde attacking Jack and Alex. There was another high-pitched shriek and Frank swung his head in every direction – except up. The Hunter pounced from the roof and began to claw at Frank's shirt, cawing ominously. After a sustained burst of rifle fire it fell limply to the ground and Frank got back on his feet, shooting a thumbs-up in Ryan's general direction before redirecting his attention back to Jack and Alex. Covered in blood and gore, the two emerged from the swarm relatively unscathed, by some miracle. Ryan shouted and pointed at the infected still pouring in up the tracks from outside and the four concentrated their fire on them, making short work of the remaining infected.

Panting heavily and sweating profusely, Jack wiped his brow and grinned broadly. "I think we got 'em all!" he shouted, quickly running over to the table to grab more ammo.

"Stay frosty, survivors! ETA is five minutes!" the radio chirped.

"Hear that, we're almost outta here!" Jack shouted.

Then the wall next to him exploded into chunks of brick and rubble and the roar of a Tank echoed throughout the station. Jack's grin immediately vanished and his eyes widened. He attempted to backpedal rapidly, firing his shotgun as he did, but the Tank clipped him with its fist, sending Jack sprawling on the ground. He drew his .45 and took potshots at the beast as it rushed past him toward the others.

"SHIT!" Alex yelled, following Frank down onto the tracks toward the central platform once again, closely pursued by the Tank. Behind it, Ryan crouched and fired multiple short bursts into its back, punishing it for ignoring him. Frank split off from Alex, leading the Tank toward a column in the center of the platform. Taking advantage of the Tank's lack of maneuverability, he constantly circled around the pillar, reversing his direction over and over to confuse the beast as he and the others poured fire into it. After several seconds of confused chasing, the Tank bellowed in rage and merely annihilated the stone pillar with a single punch. Frank cursed and backpedaled, firing his shotgun into the pursuing Tank as he did so.

Then another Boomer fell through the skylight, directly in his line of fire. The explosion stunned Frank, and knocked him back – the Tank rushed forward and smashed him into another pillar. Frank slumped to the ground and drew his dual pistols, firing uselessly and inaccurately at the Tank in his dazed state.

Ryan swore profusely when he saw the Boomer fall from above. It didn't take long for him to hear the clamor of an incoming horde in the hallway behind him. Whirling around, he held them off at the barricade chokepoint with continuous rifle fire. On the central platform, Alex employed numerous improvised acrobatics to dodge the Tank's clumsy blows, taking a couple of potshots at the menace in between dodges. He rushed past Frank and around the other pillar – but the Tank merely smashed through it, splintering it into chunks of rubble using its sheer mass. Zombie began to drop from the skylights above, diverting Alex's attention for crucial seconds and wasting his dwindling ammo. Desperately firing everything he had at the Tank as he rushed backwards, Alex didn't notice the back wall quickly closing the distance towards him. He realized his mistake when his backward momentum ceased and swore incessantly – the Tank was on him in seconds and crushed him against the wall, cracking the brick face and nearly rendering the small, skinny man unconscious.

On the ground next to the table, Jack watched in horror as his friends were incapacitated by the Tank one by one. Ryan's attention was still focused on the horde attempting to rush out of the main entrance – even as the Tank took down Alex and turned its attention to him. _So close…so close and we're not going to make it,_ Jack thought.

_Is that how it's going to end? You're just going to say 'oh well, we tried' and just die? Is that what the Chief said, too?_

_No._

_Is a sprained fucking ankle going to stop you and your friends from living?_

_No._

_Get up._

_It hurts._

_Someone got killed the last time 'it hurt.' Get up._

_I'm not going to let them stop us._

_GET THE FUCK UP!_

Grunting in pain, clenching his teeth, and scowling, Jack dragged himself over to the table and grabbed the top with both arms. Grunting and groaning even more, he hauled himself to his feet with great effort and popped the last of his codeine into his mouth. "RYAN!" he bellowed, pulling out his Molotov and pointing at the Tank rushing towards his friend. "RUN!" Ryan spun his head around and his jaw dropped when he saw the Tank closing in. He quickly jumped to his feet and sprinted away as fast as he could toward Jack.

"Get them up," Jack said, calmly. "I'll get this." The Tank roared and beat at its chest as it rushed towards him. Jack heaved the Molotov and it smashed on the ground before the beast, igniting it and spreading a wall of fire across the platform. Drawing his shotgun, Jack backpedaled towards the table, firing as he went. The Tank rapidly closed the distance as swung its mighty fist at him – but Jack hopped onto the table and leapt over the Tank's head, rolling as he hit the ground and sliding onto his feet. Instantly, Jack was sprinted away, turning around and pouring more fire as he ran backwards up the platform, the Tank following just behind.

On the central platform, Ryan had already gotten Frank on his feet and the two fought their way through the straggling infected toward Alex's prone form. Crouching next to him, Ryan slapped at Alex's face and shook him awake. Alex muttered something incoherent as his eyes reopened. "Can't give up on me now, kid. Get on your feet!" Ryan yelled, hauling Alex to his feet and propping him against the wall. Ryan jabbed a needle into Alex's leg. "What the hell is that?" Frank asked.

"Adrenaline. It was one the table," Ryan answered. Alex immediately jolted back to life and leapt to his feet, aiming his rifle. "Shit!" Alex shouted. "Why is Jack fighting that Tank by himself?" He attempted to open fire, but nothing happened. "Shit, I'm out of ammo!"

"Jack said he'd take care of the Tank!" Ryan said. "Just grab some ammo and we'll keep this horde off him!"

The Tank grabbed a large chunk of rubble from the ground, the remnants of a shattered pillar, and heaved it at Jack. Jack dove onto the tracks, rolling back onto his feet, and scrambled onto the central platform, reloading his weapon. The burning beast continued its relentless pursuit, still foiled by Jack's cunning strategy of mobility. Furious, the Tank grabbed another chunk of rubble and launched it at Jack. The survivor rolled again and slid onto his feet, rising up and firing again and again into the Tank's face. Jumping out of the way of the beast's final, desperate swing, he stood over the Tank as it fell to its knees and onto its face. Jack bent double, leaning on his knees, and exhaled sharply.

Several things suddenly happened at once. A shrill, high-pitched whistle shrieked from outside – looking down the tracks, Jack could vaguely see the silhouette of an oncoming train. There was another massive howl and the clatter of running feet as infected began to pour out of the main hallway, through the skylights, and piled out of the hole in the wall the Tank had made. There was another enraged roar and a third Tank dropped through the skylight onto the far platform, beating at its chest and charging. "Aw, come on!" Jack groaned, standing upright and reloading his shotgun.

"Train's here! C'mon, let's go!" Ryan shouted, waving his arm at Jack. Jack looked at the Tank, then glanced at the oncoming train, then back at the Tank. "Follow me, you dumb son of a bitch!" he shouted, flailing his arms at the Tank and grinning. The tank clambered onto the central platform and rumbled toward him. Jack paused to unload his compliment of shotgun shells, then dashed for the train tracks, Tank hot on his heels. As the train pulled into the station, brakes squealing, he made a running leap over the tracks, narrowly avoiding the meat of the Tank's fist. Jack landed on the main platform, stumbled and rolled across the ground – but the Tank followed him onto the tracks. Jack managed to let loose a hearty laugh just before the train slammed into the Tank and mashed it to paste beneath many tons of steel.

There was a stab of pain in Jack's chest and he twitched and grimaced, clutching at several broken ribs. _Pills are wearing off_. Rising to his feet with some difficulty, he saw the others piling into the single boxcar the train towed, open on both sides, as they were pursued by countless infected. They managed to put out enough fire to keep the feral creatures from swarming Jack as well, waving and calling for him to hurry up. Still, about thirty zombies stood between him and escape. _Not a problem._ Drawing his machete and grinning fiendishly, Jack cut a swathe through the pack, shoving away any he couldn't dismember. He stepped inside the train car-

And something wrapped around his chest. A Smoker pulled him backwards, toward the reaching arms and enraged faces of the horde. Jack reached at the same time Frank and Ryan lunged forward, grabbing his arms and halting the Smoker's pull. "Don't you fucking let go!" Ryan shouted.

"ME?" Jack snapped back, hands slowly creeping their way up Ryan and Frank's arms. Alex leveled his rifle, putting his scope to his eye, and fired one shot at the tall, hazy figure in the center of the crowd. It exploded into a cloud of smoke and Jack crashed into the car on top of Frank and Ryan. Alex grabbed the handle and made on final effort to slam the door of the car. Ryan beat his fist on the front wall, shouting, "We're all in! LET'S GO!"

The train's whistle shrieked and it lurched forward, quickly picking up speed and pulling out of the station. Hundreds of zombies fruitlessly gave chase down the tracks and out of the station.

Jack rolled off of Ryan and Frank and slumped against a wall. "I think I broke my everything," he groaned, making a face and wrapping both arms around his chest.

"_You_ broke everything?" Ryan said. "_You_ landed on _me_!"

"I think we're all pretty beat up, kids," Frank grunted, lighting a cigarette.

Alex held his hand to his head, staring blankly at the wall of the train car for some time. "Dude…" he finally said. "I can't believe we made it!"

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Frank growled. "We're safe for now, but we ain't out of this until every goddamn zombie son of a bitch is dead."  
>"Can't be too hard, can it?" Jack chuckled, grinning like an idiot. "I mean, you've got <em>me<em> on your side."

The train rolled across the bridge and disappeared over the horizon. As dawn broke, the city still burned, gunfire still echoed, and zombies still shambled through the streets.

THE SURVIVORS HAVE ESCAPED!


End file.
